Silent Beauty
by Terrorking Tragedian
Summary: Set in season 2. An alternate ending to HM episode I am Hannah, Hear Me Croak. What would have happened if the the operation made things worse? Please read and review, it means a lot to me.
1. Fateful Stage Performance

This story is an alternate ending and continuation to the season 2 episode I Am Hannah, Hear Me Croak. For those who have not watched the episode yet, or have never watched it before, here's a little information you need for you to understand my story. I will not reveal too much for fear of spoilers.

Miley loses her voice singing too many encores and ends up losing her voice. Her doctor says that in order to preserve her Hannah career, she must undergo vocal chord surgery.

During that night after she heard the unwelcome news, she had a nightmare but met her mother in it. Hearing reassuring words and encouragement from her mother and her friends (in the dream), Miley slept on with a smile.

We presume that the ending for that episode was happy, but I don't intend for it to end there. Now, for an edited version of the revelation in I am Hannah, Hear me Croak.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana, nor do I own any of the songs and lyrics. The following song is from Hannah Montana, Life's What You Make It.

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_Don't let no small frustration_

_Ever bring you down (no no no!)_

_Just take the situation_

_And turn it all around_

A concert hall packed with screaming fans...hands waving in the air...banners sporting words of admiration...crowds chanting over and over my name, "Hannah! Hannah! Hannah!"

I maneuvered across the stage graceful like a phoenix, powerful like a dragon; my dance was perfectly synchronized with the music, and as every now and then I went to touch the hands reaching out towards me, the crowd nearest to me would let out a deafening scream that might have drowned out the song.

I have been dumb for the past week, having lost my voice due to singing too many encores in a Hannah concert. Daddy told me to not talk for a week, during which I encountered many inconveniences. When exactly one week had passed, everybody watched eagerly and nervously as I tried to talk. I myself was so apprehensive I couldn't have talked anyway, but when I heard my voice again I could not remember a happier time in my life.

The scheduled Hannah concert was not cancelled after all. And here I am, singing with my recovered voice.

_With a new attitude everything can change_

_Make it all you want it to be_

_Staying mad, why do that? Give yourself a break_

_Laugh about it and you'll see_

I felt truly happy that all the fiasco from that one week of silence was over. Now I've learnt my lesson. I will not ever sing six encores ever again.

_Life's what you make it_

_So let's make it rock_

_Life's what you make it_

Why do I feel a weird itch in my throat?

_So _come on**Come on!**

**Wait! **That didn't come out right! Had the hoarseness returned? Sweet niblets! Not in the middle of a concert!

Then I felt a knife with the sharpest point thrust right through my throat. Giving out a strangled scream, I dropped the microphone and knelt onto the stage floor, holding on to my neck in agony. Had my throat ripped itself apart? I felt a searing pain burn in the voice box.

The music stopped abruptly. All the fans behind were silent, the ones in front screamed in horror and gasped in despair. My stage dancers ran up to me, and one of them held my left shoulder, saying in a panicked voice, "Miss Montana! Are you alright?"

In reply, I coughed up what looked like dark blood onto the stage floor. By now the fans in front were screaming in horror. My band people also rushed towards me. My dancers all gasped in shock.

Soon, I involuntarily coughed out my lungs, blood from my mouth splattering and staining the floor. Every cough felt like a white-hot iron poker pressing on my throat. The sharp pain was killing me; with each cough I flinched visibly, my eyes streaming. So horrible was the pain that I failed to notice Roxy, my bodyguard, charging up the stage and yelling, "Call of the concert! We gotta get this here girl to the hospital!"

"I'm fine, Roxy!" I cried out to her, immediately regretting it as I felt my throat tear itself asunder. My hands squeezed my neck like a tightening vice.

"Oh no you ain't girl! Come on!" And unceremoniously, I was carried by Roxy to the backstage. I heard the Master of Ceremony say something, and the fans gave a load grudging groan. Apparently they were dispersing.

Daddy took me into his arms, and all of us-Daddy, Roxy, Lilly in her Lola disguise and I -boarded the limo. The driver then sped off to the nearest hospital.

I thought my eyes would dry out; an endless stream of tears flowed down my cheeks. The pain in my throat intensified, and I thought I might die there, clutching my throat, resting (and banging) my head on Daddy's lap. Every ten seconds I would give one or two coughs, accompanied with a croaked scream, blood spurting into the air like a miniature fountain. Lilly gave the sight a disgusted look. Roxy was yelling into her cellphone, "This is an emergency!" while Daddy loudly urged the driver to go faster, the way a jockey would beat his horse. He looked quite deranged.

I think I might have passed out then. For next thing I remembered after opening my eyes was that I was lying on the living room sofa. At home.

I bolted up straight. Looking around, I saw my doctor and Daddy next to me. My wig was out of sight. A strange tingling feeling was in my throat. Cautiously, I croaked to Daddy, "Daddy! What happened?"

Daddy replied in a would-be-calm voice, "They had no place for reservations in the hospital, so we drove you home. I called up Doc here."

Doc gave me a reassuring smile. I winced at the sunlight shining into my eyes. Did I sleep one night? Was this morning?

Doc gave me a check-up on my throat. Daddy took a seat next to me as Doc made his diagnosis.

"This problem is not going to get better on its own. If you ever want to sing again, I'm afraid you would have to go through surgery."

My stomach felt my stomach plummet into nothingness. Feeling an icy rush run through my body, my shaking hand jerked out and grabbed dad's. Daddy gave my hand a squeeze as my numb brain struggled to take in the news.

Then the doctor gave a few comments that made me feel more apprehensive. I covered my face in terror when I heard all that he said and thought that Hannah might never sing again. What is something went wrong?

I went into an uneasy sleep that night. Mommy visited me in my dreams and told me that even if I lost my voice, I would still have people who cared about me. My friends, my mommy, my daddy. I thought I could sleep with a smile on my face.

Or it could have been Daddy's Loco Hot Cocoa. But I definitely heard mom. And her warm hug gave me the courage I needed.

And yet, still, as I got up next morning, got changed, sat at the back of the car while Dad drove me to the hospital, signed those incomprehensible forms, and (had time sped up or something?) finally lied down on the operating table, breathing in the noxious gas from a mask that made my brain feel all numb and sl-sl-sleepy all...of the...sudden...

I could not get rid of that ominous feeling...

Shadows closed over my eyes...

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This came to me in a sudden stroke of inspiration. Hope you enjoyed it! Meanwhile, I'll get on that second chapter right away! Yes sir, I'm working like a running train here! Hahahaha!

Terrorking Tragedian


	2. Revelation

OH YEAH! When you gain momentum, you can't stop! YEAH!

Sorry about that. Here's chapter two. Immediately after the surgery, Miley wakes up and tries to find out what happens after. Well we shall see.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.

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"...Mile...wake up...Miley..."

A distant voice called me. Urging me to wake up. But I didn't want to wake up. I felt like I was in chains; my head was too heavy, and my body was completely paralysed. And anyway, I felt too warm and sleepy to wake up...

"...Miley...wake up..."

"Leave me alone..."

"Wakey wakey..."

"No...no..."

But slowly, I felt lighter and lighter, until I was sure I was quite awake. My tried to lift my eyelids.

It was a daunting task. I will discover what happened upon waking up, I will see daddy's face, and I was afraid that something bad happened. And in any case, opening my eyes took a lot of strength; they weighed at least a ton...

"Hey, she's stirring! Dad! Did you see that?"

"Wake up now...you can do it..."

Mustering all the strength I've got, I broke through the wall blocking me from consciousness, and slowly opened my eyes.

The first thing I saw was light. Glorious light, piercing light, welcoming light. Dare I open them up further? I experimented again.

"Dad! She's awake!"

"I know kiddo!"

I opened them up further. Now I saw a faint outline of a human head, with long hair and sideburns...

I opened them up totally.

"Welcome back Miley."

My dad and Jackson were sitting on either side of me. And I was lying on a soft and very warm bed. I took a long look around the room, still sleepy due to the anesthesia.

I was in a hospital ward, and I saw that it was silent and empty. All except me. Compared to the other hospital, this one was eerily quiet. Should have been here earlier.

Daddy was looking at me with a weird expression on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and joy. I guess he was relieved that I woke up at last. Jackson was looking at me in the same way too. Who died?

"Miley." Daddy whispered as he stroked my hair gently. Why did he sound so sad? So tired? Did he stay up all night watching me? Wait. That can't be right. I look outside the window. It was pitch black outside. Apparently I slept till night.

"If only you knew in a less brutal way..." he sighed. SIGHED? Wait a minute! I thought he was happy I woke up!

"Dad, let it rest. It's done anyway." Jackson's face was strangely pale. Or was it the trick of light? I saw tears glistening in his eyes. Since when would Jackson cry for me?

But then I saw that Dad was doing the same thing. What's going on?

Then I knew.

I tried to say something to them, but shock struck me dumb when I realised that no sound was coming out of my mouth. I was dumb in the first place. WHAT HAPPENED?!

Horror took control of me. I snapped a finger up to my throat and winced as it touched the sown-up wound. That spot was where they operated on. But nevertheless, I applied light pressure and hummed a tune.

It took a while for my numb brain to register the fact that I was NOT humming anything. I felt no vibration on my neck. My voice box stayed still.

My head was swirling now. Feeling slightly faint with shock and fear, I turned my head to Dad for answers. Frantically, I said, MOUTHED, "What happened?!"

Only air escaped from my mouth, and a whisper of what I said was heard.

Dad then dropped the bomb on me.

"While they were doing the operation, they found that your throat was infected. They had to amputate it. Your vocal chord was taken out."

My stomach turned to ice. I could only stare, horrified, at Dad. His voice was filled with regret and moroseness. Jackson also looked away from me.

I could no longer talk. I would have to spend the rest of my life in utter silence. It all sunk in. The merciless truth.

Momma's prediction was wrong. Something did go wrong. And because of that, I may never say anything again. Never will I make another wisecrack or a sarcastic comment as long as I lived.

How would my friends take it? How would my teachers take it? How will those people whom I meet everyday take it? Will they, contrary to what momma said, desert me? Will they tease me for my handicap? Will momma be wrong twice?

But then it got worse. What about Hannah? Hannah Montana? And millions of her fans? What will happen to them?

I answered that question myself. Hannah is no more. Hannah is dead. Never will she sing another song again. And never will she merrily yell "I love you all!" to her hordes of screaming fans again. Never again can she attend another celebrity party. Hannah's legacy will be lost into the sands of time, Fate having finally twisted her life around.

**It's over. Hannah is gone.**

What colour left on my face had drained away.

I gave a few quiet sobs and then went into a silent storm of tears, unable to make any bawling sounds; instead, only loud sobs and gasps that did not require a voice came through. I bit my fist as Daddy pulled me into a tearful embrace. Soon all over my hair his tears flowed. At this point Jackson left the room, unable to take the stress anymore.

We were locked in that embrace for what could have been an hour. I hardly noticed nor cared when the doctor walked through the door.

"Miss Stewart, Mister Stewart. I'm very sorry about your loss." he uttered sincerely, his head bowed, his gaze fixed firmly on Daddy's shoe.

Dad broke away from me. He wiped the tears away from his eyes and croaked in a parched and shaking voice, "No Doc. It's not your fault."

"Looks like Hannah Montana has become a legend of the past now, hasn't she?" Doc turned his gaze onto me now. Clearing up my sobs, I looked into his eyes and whispered helplessly, using only my tongue and lips to shape the air into the words I wanted to say.

"_What do I do now? Is there hope that I would talk again?"_

He bent right down until his ear was an inch away from my mouth and asked me to repeat. Leaning closer, I breathed into his ear, "_Is there hope that I would ever talk again? Doc?" _

He straightened up and stared down of me with a look of utmost pity in his eyes.

"No. Miley. I'm afraid you're, from now on, officially handicapped. There is no skirting round the facts this time. You can never talk again."

I thought about that one week; that week when I had to use a clipboard to express my views, the week when I couldn't get Oliver to shut up, the week when I had so many inconveniences. Now I would have to live like I did that week for the rest of my life.

As I got discharged the next day, Daddy driving Jackson and I back home, I could only think of one thing.

**Hannah Montana is officially over.**

So long, pop star life. And t'was here that the legend of Hannah Montana ended. A legend that no amount of tears can revive once it becomes history.

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Aw, so sad. But that's what happens when you sing too many encores. How will she take this handicap? Will her whole life be affected? Is there hope? This story is highly reminiscent to Little Mermaid, another Disney animated picture, where Ariel, the heroine, loses her voice to the evil sea witch. And in future chapters, you will see even more of this unintended but uncanny likeliness.

I will begin work on chapter 3 as soon as possible. In the mean time, will readers please tell me what do you think of this. Reviews are much appreciated.

I will not stop till this story meets its end!

Terrorking Tragedian


	3. Dealing with the Handicap

As I typed the original chapters 4 and 5, I discovered that the more I typed it, the more I hated it. If someone wants to see the original version of this story, I will post it up some day. Nevertheless, despite some people actually liking the story, I had to destroy part of it, for it was disappointing. The plot has been corrupted or perverted from what I wanted the story to be originally. Therefore, I hope readers would understand and enjoy what I have got in store. If anybody wants to see the screwed-up version, please tell me. I shall post it up for all to see (but will be in no hurry to complete it). **Let this be a lesson to all who rush to complete a story without thinking. The result is usually a total mess.**

Seriously, I have never felt so RUINED in my life!

I suppose it was a minor writer's block that delayed the coming of this chapter. Nevertheless, it is done. The new and originally intended plot for Silent Beauty!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hannah Montana.

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Dealing with a handicap was hard. First, you have to get over the denial and shock, accept your imperfection, and then you have to defeat the depression that might surface upon acceptance of the terrible truth. Kind of like the stages of grief, really. After fully getting over the grief and being okay with the handicap, comes the harder part. Living on with the handicap. How to continue your life with a handicap. The most important thing to do when you try to live with a handicap is to change your lifestyle. A wheelchair-bound athlete will have to give up soccer and surfing for other wheelchair sports. A blind person will have to live out the rest of his life in total darkness, depending only on his hearing and touch to feel the world around him. He will have to live with the fact that he may never watch another movie nor television show again, he may never look at his food ever again (only smell and taste it), and he will have to get over the depression when he learns that life without vision will be utterly dull.

But everyone gets over grief in the end. A blind man faces a bleak future, and he must face it bravely. In time, he will learn that he must.

But getting over the first stage of grief will be difficult is you are a celebrity. A pop star, in fact. A teen pop sensation, Hannah Montana. The one who prizes her voice and uses it all the time. And all that Hannah thing bust, just by a simple handicap.

What will the world say if they found out Hannah Montana, their favourite pop star suddenly became a mute?

Outrage, sorrow, grief, loss, all that chaos will ensue. Hannah being a mute is such a painful thought I rather wished I became blind instead. That didn't come out right, did it? I don't want to be blind, of course. But I didn't want this curse. I never asked for this ill luck to strike Hannah's career down forever.

_Oh but you did ask for it, did you not? You had to sing six encores. Now, because of that, your little songbird life is gone for good. _That nasty little voice of the back of my head constantly reminded me that it was my entire fault as I punched the pillow trying to get some sleep that night.

In truth, I felt ultimately horrible. I DID bring this on myself. Now because of me, millions of fans across the world will be disappointed.

The word 'remorse' described me perfectly at this moment.

My pillow was soaked with warm tears by the time the mocking rays of the sun pierced through the curtains, calling morning into the world.

"Miley, you look terrible."

Dad hardly knew how to sympathies with me; he too was in shock upon witnessing such a turn of fate.

Jackson did not have anything to say to me, either. He did want to see his little sister get into trouble, but he never expected her to lose her career to an operation; in fact, he even teased her about being nervous before the operation.

Still recovering from that fateful operation, I could not eat solid food for three days. Dad made me some hot cocoa instead of cereal.

Breakfast passed in relative silence. That is, until Lilly and Oliver crashed through the door with a large BANG.

"Miley! We heard about the operation! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!!" Lilly was practically panicking when she charged through the door, Oliver behind her.

I ran up to her and helped her up by the shoulders when she tripped on Jackson's shoe. Oliver stood frozen a few paces away from us. He was by no means calm, either.

"Mr. Stewart told us yesterday they had to take out your vocal chord! We couldn't believe it! It's not a joke, is it?"

Lilly whispered in a pleading and denying voice, "Is it true? You can never talk or sing again?"

There was no avoiding the truth. Solemnly, I shook my head. Lilly and Oliver understood that that meant 'no'.

Lilly was breathless with horror. Oliver looked away from the scene, unable to digest all that had happened.

"But…then Hannah…you…what about…why…you…" She cast around for things to say, but not a proper sentence formed and came out of her mouth. Unable to say anything, she opted for crying hard on my shoulder instead.

_With a voice. Hmph. She still has her voice._

The voice at the back of my head reminded me repetitiously.

Oliver walked over to the dining table and joined the rest of the boys, not wanting to watch the sorry scene. Lilly finally broke away from me reluctantly. In a croaked voice, she muttered softly, "Oh Miley, I'm so sorry. What'll happen to you now? What about Hannah?"

A million questions I had asked myself sprung in my mind. The most pressing question was this one: What will happen to Hannah Montana?

I could never describe the pain when I knew what would most certainly happen in the uncertain future: Hannah will join the 'fallen pop stars' lot, and after some time of grieving over the loss of their beloved idol, the millions of disappointed fans would move on and worship some other celebrity. Hannah will fall out of popularity instantly, unable to revive her career anymore. All of my hopes of Hannah were placed on wishing she would stay a great legend for a century or more, the way Elvis Presley was.

I couldn't stop a few quiet sobs, and before I knew it, I in turn burst into a violent by almost silent storm of tears on Lilly's shoulder, releasing some of that excruciating pain made just by thinking of the uncertain future. Again, only sobs and gasps that required no voice came through. Lilly stroked my hair in a comforting way, apparently not being able to say anything else.

The first breakfast after the operation passed with drama. I stayed home recovering from the surgery, unable to eat anything solid for three days, trapped in the prison cell of my mind tormented by misery, an ominous feeling in my stomach all the time.

But on the night before returning to school, I was revitalized. Mom came to me in a dream just like she did before the surgery, and comforted me in a way no one could, not even Dad.

"_Miley, get outta there! Don't you want dinner?"_

_That was Dad calling me from the kitchen. Apparently, he has grown tired of me locking myself in my room all day. But I did not care. I liked being cooped up in here. I was in the middle of a dream, and was speaking to Mom with the voice I once had._

_Rather reproachfully, I told her how everything failed in the end._

"_Okay, so the operation failed. I cannot be right on everything. But you know what? Remember the last time we talked? Even without your Hannah career, you're still Miley, and you still of terrific friends. You have family, you have friends, and, you still have me."_

"_Mom…"_

"_I don't know who you are if you don't know how to steel yourself and face the future, Miley! Have you forgotten your song 'I Got Nerve'? You need to be brave!"_

_Mom was really good at giving pep talks, even when she was no longer with us physically. I smiled in spite of myself._

"_Thanks Mom. You're right, I will stand and face them."_

_Mom was glowing with pride._

"_Atta girl! When you ever need me again, I come to you, okay? Be strong, and be good."_

_She rubbed my head affectionately, and slowly started to vanish into the distances. I began to feel myself stirring. Soon I realized I was awake._

"_Miley, come down for dinner!"_

"_Coming!"_

I was almost glad when my hospital leave period was over, and I had to go back to school.

Morning of the fourth day after the operation came. It was time for school, and I did not want to be late, especially not after that long absence. Dad gave me that whiteboard I had been using for the past week, telling me to communicate through it alongside my miming skills, for I opted not to use hand sign language. (Like anyone understood sign language anyway)

I soon discovered upon alighting Dad's car that the school was buzzing with news of Hannah's operation. Somehow, the press must have found out from the hospital, and after three long days of pressure the hospital people had no choice but to divulge the entire proceedings and results to the reporters. Thankfully, Doctor Meyer did not divulge the secret of Miley being Hannah Montana. That, I swear the press would NEVER find out, if not from me.

"Hey! Did you know Hannah lost her vocal chords?"

"Hannah could never sing again?"

"NOOO!"

"I love Hannah! Why did she do this to us?"

"She collapsed on her own concert didn't she?"

"Rumor has it that she sang too many encores."

Mutterings and rumors flew around the air like bullets. Everyone mourned the passing of their favourite pop star. It was then that I felt truly grateful that Doc had not revealed my secret as Miley leading a double life; if they knew I was Hannah, I am going to be the centre of unwanted attention in school, in the WORLD.

Lilly and Oliver found it difficult to accept the fact that their best friend has become a mute, and that her alter ego, Hannah Montana, was no more. But just like when they first found out I was Hannah, they got over the initial shock rather quickly and now tried to comfort the best they could while trying not to expose Miley Stewart as a mute. The circumstances were too suspicious: Both Miley and Hannah disappear for a while, Miley is revealed as a mute when she reappears, Hannah hits the news as a mute at the same time. Indeed, Rico already questioned the oddness of the situation.

"_Hey, angel-face, you okay?"_

"_She's fine Rico. Just a little sore throat. She won't be talking for a week though."_

"_Curious! Hannah Montana happens to have lost her voice too! I wonder…"_

_After giving me a suspicious look, he left for his locker._

_Lilly turned to me and whispered, half-panicking, "He might be on to you!"_

_I glared at her pointedly, trying to say, "Sore throat?! That little devil will definitely find out in a few hours!"_

Even Amber and Ashley looked disillusioned. To our glee, they seemed to have lost their usual annoying gusto, and seemed to have put on an absolutely woebegone appearance and mood. They had not picked on anyone for an entire morning, a new record for them.

I discovered that the true inconvenience from being unable to speak is the difficulty of communication. I had to write down what I wanted to say on the whiteboard every time someone spoke to me. I never noticed how many times people talk to you a day, and how many times you have to reply. By the time it was recess, my hand and wrist were tired of all that writing, and I resorted to miming my words. Unfortunately, I found it slightly more difficult to express myself in this way, and sometimes even looked like a fool or clown, as pointed out unceremoniously by Oliver.

Friends talk to you, people talk to you, acquaintances talk to you, teachers talk to you, teachers ask you questions, and you have to answer them. My heart burned with rage at the injustice during biology lesson, with Ms Karen Kunkle in charge.

"_Stewart, will you please stand up and answer me this question. Where is the tibia bone in the body?"_

_I scribbled an answer 'in the shin' on the whiteboard, hastily stood up and flashed the whiteboard at her._

"_Stewart, I don't know what are you trying to pull off but will you please stop playing a fool. Now answer me!"_

_Lilly tried to convince her that I was not fooling around._

"_Please Ms Kunkle, she has a sore throat and won't speak for another week."_

"_I don't care what is wrong with her. Stewart, you could just whisper an answer to me, or croak or whichever you prefer."_

_I pointed to my shin, trying to answer her anyway._

"_SPEAK! Stewart! SPEAK!"_

_I had no choice but to remain silent. It was not possible to speak in the first place. However, she did not know that. I knew too that none of this about Miley Stewart being mute would play along forever, for a sore throat was not an everlasting ailment. And in Ms Kunkle's class, this ploy would never work._

"_Very well, Stewart. It seems you don't know the answer. You will remain standing."_

_I opened my mouth in protest, making frantic gestures towards Ms Kunkle to justify myself. Lilly and Oliver also began to protest against her decision._

"_Ms Kunkle, that's not fair! She can't speak for a week!"_

"_Truscott, Oken, you do not talk back at the teacher!"_

_I folded my arms and stared grudgingly at my desk, seething with rage. Ms Kunkle might have noticed the expression I wore on my face, or she might have possessed the ability to read my mind, for suddenly she bared at me from across the room, "I will not stand for bad and defiant attitude in class, Stewart. Off you go to the principal's office!"_

_My eyes widened; I stared into Ms Kunkle's merciless face as she motioned me out of the class. My heart threatened to explode with anger at that moment. Nevertheless, I was not intent to get myself into even more trouble. In a huff, I stormed out of the classroom for the principal's office, feeling the eyes of everyone in the class on my back._

_It was at the principal's office that I divulged the secret that I was mute. Speaking was impossible for me. Ms Kunkle punished me unfairly. But the principal chided me for lying in the first place. He said he was willing to let me off without punishment, but I had to apologize to her for lying and telling her I had sore throat and was unable to speak for a week, when my silence was supposed to last till the day I die. Again, I felt a twitch of annoyance inside me when I remembered that none other than Lilly made up this excuse, and I had decided to play along. I knew this excuse would not last forever._

_I returned to biology twenty minutes later, Ms Kunkle leering at me when I entered the classroom. As I sat down and hanged my head broodingly, I wondered how long I would last in school if every teacher did this to me._

_Ms Kunkle never called on me again during that lesson._

Rico was starting to REALLY get on my case. Somehow, he found out I was a mute, and began to make wild (but correct) accusations that I was related to Hannah Montana and her problem in some way. Oliver made an attempt to convince Rico otherwise by saying I was so grieved upon hearing the news that Hannah was handicapped that I tore my throat apart in homage to her. Obviously, Rico was not to be persuaded by such a dumb story. It was a matter of time before he discovered the whole ugly truth.

But Rico was not my main worry. The most pressing problem was for Hannah, not Miley. Hannah now had to face the world and tell all the millions of fans and alike everything, from what happened to what will happen in the future. For I knew, Hannah couldn't just vanish after that fateful surgery; people all over the world would start looking for her. It was time to be brave and let the world know that the legend of Hannah Montana was over. And an interview at the request of a TV show 'Tonight's Star' seemed to be the perfect place to do it.

Of course, it was not yet time to reveal the deepest secret about my double life. Shock after another will only cause confusion.

Dad accepted the request to go on tonight's show.

_It was after school, and I went home. I opened the door to find Dad talking over the phone. He muttered an "Okay, thanks," and hung up. Quickly spotting me, he told me about the conversation he had just now._

"_I just got a call from the 'Tonight's Star' people. You know that show on every Friday night, when they do live interviews with stars."_

_I nodded._

"_I was thinking maybe they wanted Hannah to be on the show after all that fiasco like an army of shepherds looking for a missing lamb."_

_I snickered and nodded in agreement._

"_Do you want to do the show, then?"_

_To his utter surprise, I nodded for the third time, this time resolutely._

_Seeing the fierce and determined look on my face, he asked on, clearly mystified_

"_You want to do the show?"_

_I told him through the whiteboard, "We have to tell everyone what has happened to Hannah. That she will never be able to sing again."_

_Dad thought for a while, staring at the whiteboard, before agreeing._

"_Yeah, I think so too. We can't lie silent the whole time. Not when the whole world's looking for us. Let's come clean, what say you?"_

_I nodded the fourth time._

_Dad made the call back to the people at the show and accepted the request to do the interview. He positively radiated with pride the way Mom did last night when he hung up, put down the phone and looked at me, beaming._

"_You did good, bud. I'm proud of you."_

_I nodded happily, beaming back and pulled into a warm embrace with him._

With that, I awaited dusk both nervously and eagerly.

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It took far longer than expected, but I managed to get over my writer's block and re-write chapter 3 in a similar way. This chapter was simply a bridge to the next. And trust me, I promise not to blow up this whole thing like I did last time! Chapter 4 will not be the same. Not when I am thinking over the story deeply. Stay tuned!

Terrorking Tragedian


	4. Decision and the Proposition

Now we continue to chapter four. I have not received many reviews yet but that is not my concern**. Sorry for putting a hold on this story for so long.** I managed to come up with something good, and now I am able to write the story I wanted it to be. If anyone wants to see the original screwed-up version of this story, please tell me and I shall consider uploading it. Mind you, I still do test the importance of every word before submitting it. It's hard to do it with only 24 hours in a day. So without further ado, chapter 4!

Disclaimer: Don't own anything related to Hannah Montana. But I hope you know who it was that I based my interviewer on.

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Seven o'clock arrived. I put on the wig, dressed up in my Hannah clothes, sat down of the couch and waited for Daddy to come and get going. I felt like jumping up and pacing back and forth; it was a very uncomfortable feeling, butterflies bursting to life in your tummy. By the time Daddy came down, I was biting my nails nervously, wondering whether this was a good idea like I thought only hours ago.

"Hey, don't worry honey. You did a brave thing. Let's move." Daddy touched me lightly on the shoulder in reassurance.

But no amount of comforting words were going to quieten down those butterflies. I felt slightly sick, and my hands were clammy. I mouthed a "help me!" to Daddy, gripping his hand tightly.

"Now I know honey, it's hard having to tell the world a secret like that. But you gotta stay strong. You're doin' a noble thing. Besides, the world deserves to know what happened to the famous teen-pop sensation gone to seed like a farmer turning into a baboon and jumping into a refrigerator's patch."

I gave him a look that said, "_Huh?_"

"You're doin' good, bud. C'mon, we're gonna be late." With that, he urged me out of the door.

A long black limo awaited us outside the door. The chauffeur opened the door and welcomed us in, giving Daddy and me a slightly pitying look. Lilly (in her purple wig disguise) and Oliver (in his musketeer suit) stood waiting on the balls of their feet, apparently nervous about the future as much as I was.

"Boogie driver!" Daddy called out to the chauffeur as we got in.

Lilly and Oliver said nothing for the next ten minutes; the atmosphere was so thick with nervousness I could feel it pressing on my chest, threatening to push out all the air. Daddy then cut through the air by asking in a raspy voice, "You kids want a drink?"

Lilly and Oliver accepted a can of Coke in silence. I refused with a wave of my hand; Coke made me gag, particularly these days, when I was still recovering from the amputation.

Unable to take the awkward silence anymore, I took out my whiteboard and wrote to Lilly, "Why aren't y'all talking?"

Lilly replied in a quiet voice, "Aren't you nervous?"

I shook my head, not to say no, but to acknowledge the presence of those annoying butterflies in my stomach. Feeling a bit sicker than just now, I held on to my stomach, hoping I wouldn't have to retch in the limo.

Perhaps Oliver noticed; he shook my shoulder and said, "You're all pale. What happened?"

I shook my head fervently at Oliver, hoping he would get my message: "Well I'm nervous, DUH!"

He didn't get it. I wrote to him angrily, "I more nervous than a porcupine in a balloon mall! How do you think I'm feeling?"

I hoped that this anxiety would wear off upon reaching the production studio where I would be interviewed, Daddy doing all the talking for me. All I had to do was sit next to him.

But I knew immediately that I was wrong when I stepped out of the limo and made my way up to the studio, Lilly, Oliver and Daddy marching behind me like a vanguard. Nervousness, pity and even grief permeated the air. The news about Hannah's passing was too painful to take.

We've reached the studio, where they did the make-up and all that preparations before going up on national television. Time ticked on faster and faster, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. Why was time running so fast? Had someone sped up all the clocks?

But this was no time for me to back out. I had to do this.

"Hannah, you're up in one minute."

Steeling myself for the interview, I squeezed Daddy's hand and gave him a determined nod. Daddy gave me a little smile in return.

"Hannah, you're up in three...two...one..."

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The theme music for the show played. As I took the step forward in full view of the cameras, I pondered on why had I not noticed those butterflies for very long now. Instead my stomach felt empty, as if it did not exist...

Miley looked like she was about to faint any moment. But despite her anxiety, she visibly steeled herself and held my hand tight. I felt a squeeze and saw her give me a nod. I only just realised that my little girl was braver than I would have dreamed her to be. It was as if an aura of radiance, hope and courage emitted from her frail body.

"Hannah, you're up in three...two...one..."

"Show time." I sighed and took a step forward.

As the theme music played, I marched onto the stage, Miley trotting up beside me, still gripping my hand.

"And now, let us welcome our guest on tonight's show, Hannah Montana and her father!"

The studio audience (I only just noticed them there!) went crazy with applause. Miley and I jumped a foot and stared wildly at them before making our way to the two chairs prepared for us on the show.

Then I saw Miley gasp audibly and wave happily at a certain person in the front row seat, labeled "invitees". To my utter surprise, I saw none other than Jake Ryan, waving back and yelling above the crowd, "How're you doing, Hannah?"

We took our seats. The host shook hands warmly.

"Good evening Mr Montana, Hannah. Welcome to Tonight's Star, live on National Television!"

"Howdy, partner."

The audience went into a hailstorm of applause once more.

"I am your host, Tom Burgundy. You may call me Tom."

"Good meetin' you here, Tom."

Tom received us warmly; that's a good sign. I could feel Miley, seated next to me, relax a great deal.

"So let's get on to the most recent issues regarding little miss over here," he gestured kindly towards Miley. "I think what everyone wants to know is, _what happened?_"

Miley nudged me in the arm gently, and I launched into the full story, hoping I didn't scratch that dang moustache too much; it felt like I was wearing a caterpillar.

Tom was a very experienced interviewer; I could tell. He interrupted at the the right moments, he asked questions between my pauses, and there was a while when he directed his attention to Miley, who, having been asked about her feelings and thoughts, either wrote them on the whiteboard, or whispered voicelessly into my ear so that I may answer on her behalf.

"She said it was kinda a huge shock at the start, and then horror when she realised she couldn't sing another song again."

"I see..."

nod from Miley

The audience were also perfect; they gasped where they should, they groaned when I told Tom about our crying, and some (Hannah fans, I should think) even screamed when I told the grim-faced Tom about the amputation of the vocal chords. Though I highly suspected they were told when to react, and how to react appropriately at the moment.

Miley, obviously very uncomfortable, started wringing her wrists and meddling with her fingers.

**After a while...**

"So Hannah, how do you go about your career now that you can't sing anymore? Have you given it a thought?" Tom prodded on.

Miley shrugged. What else was there to say?

I had to tell them the truth now. There was no avoiding this. Every word heavy with emotion, I muttered, "What is there to do now? She can't sing, she can't just dance to the music, can she? Pointless now. Guess we'll just have to face it."

Tom nodded grimly.

We did it. We announced to the world that Hannah will be retiring as a fallen pop star, and with her, her name and fame. It was pointless trying to retain Hannah's career if she can't sing. And what about potential opportunities to rise? We pondered that too. However hard Hannah tries to only dance to the music, she will never be as great as she was before.

The audience wept with grief and pity. The all-the-while squirming Miley also began to cry with bitter earnest.

Tom never expected something so severe.

"Are you sure your decision is final? That seems pretty hard on everyone."

Firmly, I declared once more, "We are retiring from the spotlight. It's over."

Seconds after saying that, I heard a signal telling us the time was up, and the show was over. Sighing deeply, Tom shook Miley's hand solemnly.

"Well, this is farewell, Hannah. Good luck in your life. And to you, Mr. Montana-" he turned his attention to me and shook my hand as well- "I can only say that we are all sorry such a tragedy should happen to everyone's favourite pop star. Such ill fortune befall your daughter."

Fighting back tears, I hung my head low and gripped Miley's shoulder as she stood up. Tom announced the end of the show, and trying to look as dignified as possible, I steered Miley off the set, marching resolutely away from the cameras.

"Well, that's all the show we have, so see you next time on Tonight's Star!"

The audience clapped with half-hearted gusto.

Backstage, Lilly and Oliver embraced their silently sobbing friend warmly. Choking on her own tears, Lilly tried to reassure herself as much as Miley, "It's okay, Miley. Everything will be alright."

Oliver was utterly speechless. For someone who is usually is ditz and all that, he really does have an emotional side. I joined in the group hug, and with a wavering voice, said, "It's done. Let's get out of here before we get attacked."

We were halted on our way out, however, when Jake Ryan appeared before us. Miley put on a dreamy look on her face I have not seen for quite some time, Lilly followed suit, and Oliver greeted him brightly, "Hey Jake!"

Jake was surprised.

"You know me?"

"Like, who doesn't know you? Hottie of the year, and all that..."

Miley gave him a look of daggers to shut him up in case he blew our cover. Lilly stepped on his foot hard when he failed to notice the warning look.

Though mystified, Jake did not ask questions. He motioned a man behind him to come forward, and the man bounced before me, taking my hand before I offered it.

"Hey there! I'm Carl Moore, director of Zombie High, and you, sir, look fa-bulous!"

His smile faded; his pep drained away when I gave no reaction. Getting down to business, Jake and his director made a proposal for Hannah to take a permanent role in Zombie High, as the undead princess Zerronda. They further explained that they would edit the story slightly so that Hannah may play the role without talking, which was impossible for her.

Miley wrote on her whiteboard "I'm listening.", looking eager and interested. Something in me was beginning to stir as well.

"So you say Hannah can play the role without talking?" I asked again.

"Yup!" Jake was happy upon noticing that we have perked up and are showing signs of interest. "We can write the story this way: Zerronda receives punishment for having a romantic but forbidden relationship with the Zombie Slayer. The King of the Underworld curses her, she loses her voice and is doomed to suffer for eternity." He added.

This proposition awakened something in us. Hannah can still take part in showbiz, can't she? So what if she can't sing? We'll figure something out. Not all is lost; it's just that Hannah is now a sidelines actress. Fate knocked at the door...

And yet, I heard these words come out of my mouth.

"Jake, I appreciate your offer, but I did say we retire from showbiz, and in any case we're gonna have to think about it."

Miley whipped her head around so fast her wig slipped dangerously. She gave me a purely incredulous stare and mouthed a "huh?!". Lilly and Oliver followed suit. I had to admit that I even surprised myself.

Jake and Carl were shocked to hear me say those unforeseen words. Trying to persuade me, Carl tried me again.

"But, surely, Mr Montana, people still do love Hannah, and it would be an ultimate disappointment if she just steps off the stage of showbiz like that! Care to reconsider?" He looked at me with begging eyes. _Wow, that eager to recruit Hannah, are they?_

But our decision was final.

"I'm sorry, gents, but we signed official papers to terminate all contracts. Nothing is going to revive the career now."

Miley pleaded me desperately to let her go, grasping my hand tight, her eyes wide with shock. I thought I heard her telepathically exclaim, "Daddy, if you let Hannah fall through the grass like this, I'll be just Miley! And what about the fans?"

Everyone was giving me the 'puppy pout'. I relented, trying to assure everyone, including Miley, that I will see what I can do to revive the career despite those terminated contracts.

"Let us think this over first, Jake, Carl. Gentlemen, if you will excuse us."

I steered the reluctant Miley out of the building and into the limo waiting for us outside, leaving Jake our contacts. As we moved out, I heard Oliver ask, "Aren't you supposed to be in Romania?"

"Oh, yeah, we took a break off shooting the film for a week. I resume filming in three days."

As the limo went on the highway,I noticed that Miley was sitting in brooding silence, Lilly and Oliver excitedly debating possible story plots for Zombie High with Hannah in it as a permanent cast, completely oblivious to their friend who was sitting between them. Feeling a little guilty, I turned my head to my left and decided to stare out of the window as much as possible.

After what seemed like an eternity in the limo, I opened the door of our house. Immediately Miley marched right in, angrily. With a powerful flourish she pulled the wig of her head and flung it on the couch. She sat down beside it just as Lilly and Oliver made their way to the living room.

Apparently, judging from the hasty scribbles on the whiteboard and her facial expressions, Miley was bursting with rage. I couldn't blame her. I knew how it felt like when you were so close to reviving your ruined career, and due to a moment's indecision, blew off the beautiful chance that came along.

After "Well, I'm going to bed, and I am going to think about it myself!", Miley stormed up the stairs to her room. Lilly and Oliver bade me goodnight as they turned and left, taking off their disguises. Lilly also thought along Miley's lines, while Oliver was interested in getting Hannah back up on the popularity board.

And as I twisted and turned in bed that night, thinking hard, I could not help feeling I just blew a good chance for Hannah. For Miley. I should have taken that deal just now. But, what if something goes wrong?

"_No! Nothing will go wrong, Robbie Ray! Miley can take care of herself perfectly, even though you've tried to terminate Hannah's career. People still love Hannah, don't they? Why miss this opportunity?"_

"_I don't know, hun. What if people think she's lost her juice after all, and abandon her? Forget about Hannah? I don't want to see her get hurt like that."_

"_Our baby girl knows perfectly well she wants to try and redeem her stardom, even though she can't sing. And if she is successful, won't you say things ended up great anyway? Hannah the actress, not singer. But still good!"_

"_But what if she fails to win public appeal? What if she loses out despite trying?"_

"_Then she knows she perished bravely, trying her best to do good. I know Miley, dear. And I don't think she is that weak a person."_

"_Yeah. Guess you're right, honey. We'll see..."_

Rays of morning sun pierced through the windows...

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I will definitely get on the next chapter as soon as possible. The next chapter is completely connected to this one, and I think I know how to write it. I made a modification to this chapter so that it bore the storyline I originally wanted, and yet still resembled the earlier screwed-up version of chapter 4. I don't need reviews telling me what you like in this chapter; I need suggestions as to all do you think the next chapter should look like. Please give me some additional ideas. It's been very hard trying to best my three-week long writer's block. Thank you.

Terrorking Tragedian


	5. Picking Up the Pieces

I hope people are not getting disappointed about this story. Seriously, if you like the previous (significantly happier) version of this story, PLEASE TELL ME. I will upload that as a new story if the majority agrees to like the previous version more. The only reason I deleted and re-wrote chapters 3, 4 and 5 was because I thought the story has gone off like a train off its tracks; it was no longer the story I wanted it to be.

The reason I am stating the above is because I thought I noticed an alarming drop of popularity in this story, and even though wanting popularity went against my philosophy, I needed at least _some_ recognition so that I may more efficiently think of how the story should progress. Odd, isn't it? How the mind works?

Nevertheless, I will go on, and finish the story in a way I am sure many will be surprised unpleasantly. Now finally, the debt is settled. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Chapter 5! (Told from Robbie Ray's point of view initially)

Disclaimer: I WISH I owned Hannah Montana; that way this would have become a sort of playwright's script for a potential Hannah Montana movie. Unfortunately, that is far from possible, for I do not own the blasted thing, savvy? And while you're at it, I don't own "I Want My Mullet Back" by Billy Ray Cyrus either.

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"I don't want to live a completely normal life just because I can't sing anymore!"

Miley furiously rubbed the ink on her whiteboard away and continued.

"I AM still Hannah! I can still do things! I am still a star!"

It was daybreak. Miley was up early, and storming mad at me for bluntly refusing to work with Jake all because of a moment's indecision. Apparently, she had been up all night, tangled in a web of complications; I could picture her pacing around the room in deep thought. Her eyes looked a tad red and watery.

"Okay, bud. I'm sorry. I was just stupid."

I apologised most sincerely to her. My sleep last night was fitful, and fraught with guilt and all the related emotions. It was only moments before waking up when I heard my dear Sweet's voice speak to me.

Hearing my heavy voice, Miley calmed down and looked into my eyes intently, easily identifying guilt and regret in my overall appearance.

We sat down on the couch and together with Jackson (who sided with Miley for his own benefit), Lilly, Oliver and Roxy (who were visiting since it was a Saturday), we held a family meeting. The only person I wanted to talk to was Miley, but I felt that having witnesses would be better than a one-on-one talk.

I told Miley about Dear Sweet's voice.

"I heard your mom last night."

Instantly her face fell. Was it a look of sympathy, perhaps? Jackson shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"She told me to let you choose. Do you know why I refused Jake last night?"

Miley shook her head slowly. With a heavy sigh, I plunged into full confession.

"I was afraid you might get hurt. I know, I mean, WE all know, Hannah can't sing no more. Hannah can no more be a pop star. You didn't think you could just go up on stage and dance to the music, can you?"

She nodded, but was nevertheless puzzled, unable to understand why she would get hurt.

"I was thinking, if you were to keep on going, if you were to keep on trying to be Hannah, people will eventually get bored of you and leave you in the where-are-they-now shows."

Comprehension dawned upon her visibly. I could sense that everyone in the living room sat up a little straighter. Roxy, who was standing, also shifted slightly, paying rapt attention.

"I thought if people just abandoned Hannah, thinking she just lost her glamour, you wouldn't be able to live with the pain. I didn't want to see you get hurt. The super-star part of your double life will be miserable, and I'm afraid what all that stress will do to you." Tenderly, I held one of her hands.

"Are you sure you'll be alright, bud?"

Miley stared for a moment before letting a warm smile slowly seep onto her face. She nodded a "yes!" at me. Lilly and Oliver began to smile with her.

"Then perhaps your mom was right after all. She said you could do it. And I believe it too. And even if you don't make it, well...your mom said you'll know when you feel proud of yourself for trying. She believes in you, bud."

I could see that Miley was touched. She withdrew her hands and wrote with regained ever-undying fervor on her whiteboard, "Then I shall do it! For Mom, for everyone, and for Hannah!" She punched the air with an air of triumph, joined by the cheers of everyone else.

My insides warmed up in an instant when I saw the blazing look on her face.

"Yeah! That's the stuff! Now we gotta call Jake and strike off that deal before it's too late!" I reached for the phone as she was would-be-squealing in delight.

As I dialed the number, Roxy humorously exclaimed, "Well be darned! Looks like I get to keep my job as bodyguard after all!"

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Miley's POV:

We talked to the Zombie High lot and struck the deal. Around noon, Dad drove Lilly and I (both in our disguises) to the studio where they shot the thing at. Director Carl greeted us most enthusiastically. There, I (as Hannah) was introduced to the cast and crew now that she was to become a permanent member of the show.

"This is John. He's plays Dark Overlord and the biggest villain. This is Keke, she's in charge of the make-up artists. That's Ed over there, he's the microphone guy. Those guys will be the camera crew: Tim, Lee and Gordon."

"Ahh, I believe you know him?"

Carl pointed at Jake Ryan, the Zombie Slayer. With that all-winning charm and smile, and his gorgeous looks, Jake was (once) the man of my affections, despite several attempts to hate him and then get him back in a constant love-tug-of-war. Having appeared on his show once, he knew me quite well and apparently liked my performance as Zerronda. He never knew that the diva star Hannah whom he nearly kissed last time was in fact Miley Stewart, whom he also admitted to more than just liking me.

"Hey Hannah. Welcome to Zombie High!"

We spent half an hour that afternoon signing papers and learning my role in the show. Carl scheduled an episode to be shot at four o'clock, but eager for some action, I asked him if we could shoot the episode immediately. Carl was delighted.

"Splendid! We shall start in -" he looked at his watch, "maybe two hours time." Spotting my slightly crestfallen look, he added, "I'm sorry, but we gotta prepare the costumes and make-up and all that. I expect shooting to commence at three o'clock."

It was a wonderful afternoon. We successfully shot a full episode of Zombie High, this one including another story between the Zombie Slayer and Zerronda. This time, in the scene where the characters were supposed to part, Jake kissed me. The smell of that thunder mint made me go dreamy and dizzy as I returned the stage kiss with unexpected passion.

I saw at the corner of my eye, standing with the crew, Dad turned away purposefully. Jake pulled away from the kiss five seconds later.

"And, CUT!"

Carl was hopping with glee.

"Hannah, you are fabulous! Why, your acting will certainly keep you on those star charts now, won't they?"

Jake was equally impressed.

"Yeah, Hannah. You seemed like you really wanted to kiss me."

Carl declared a holiday for the crew and cast. Jake had to go back to Romania to resume shooting the movie. Due to some time constraint he would be flying tomorrow morning. With the lead actor gone, the show was on hiatus.

"You know, Hannah, about what I told you last time..."

Jake confessed his love for a girl named Miley (who was me) last time when I first played Zerronda on the show. Believing me to be just a fellow star who had lend an ear, he told me how he tried to get me to like him back.

"I kind of miss her. Miley, I mean."

I whirled around and gave him a "say what!?" look.

"You know, I should call her..." he pulled out his cellphone and began to dial my phone number. Hastily, I stopped him, writing on the whiteboard later, "She's probably busy right now. I think you should wait till night."

"How do you know she's busy now?" Jake was puzzled. I slapped my hand on my forehead, trying to squeeze an answer out of my numb undead brain to the mystified Jake. Luckily, Lilly was at hand, and came forward to rescue me.

"Hey, Jake! Just needed to talk to Hannah for a second. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

Without waiting for an answer, she steered me away from the scene. In a frantic frenzy, I wrote, "He doesn't know I'm Miley! What if he calls me? I can't answer him! I'm mute!", hardly able to hold the marker in my shaking hand.

Actually, I never thought of that. Now that I can no longer talk, it was not possible for me to engage in conversation over the phone. So far, no one called me on my cellphone yet. It will be a matter of time before all the people who know me as Miley get suspicious. The Hannah people knew my problem, and called my manager (a.k.a Dad) when wishing to pass news to me.

Luckily, Lilly had the perfect remedy for that. That is, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

"Don't worry. From now on, I will answer all of your Miley calls. Your dad receives the Hannah calls now, doesn't he?"

That's the problem with being mute. You get no privacy when using a phone, unless it did not require any talking on your part, in which case I could just take the call myself.

Lilly's idea did not seem fool-proof when Jake called at eight that night.

"Hello? Oh hey Jake! No, it's Lilly. Sorry, Miley can't talk right now. She had to..." Lilly glanced at me for help, and I mouthed, "Toilet!"

"...go to the toilet! Yeah, could be a while. What was it that you were going to say?"

Jake did not insist on talking to me. That did not mean, though, that he will not try again. I switched off the cellphone to prevent any more trouble.

"Miley, you can't pretend all the the time you can't talk or you have a sore throat or something. People will definitely find out anyway. Why don't you just tell Jake the truth?"

Words on my whiteboard read, "He'll be gone tomorrow morning. I'll tell him some other time."

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Hannah's popularity continued to prosper. Over the next five days, I had four more interviews regarding my revived career, three CD signing sessions, and upon learning that Hannah was going to be a main cast in Zombie High, people began to call me the "Voiceless Princess". I was given the opportunity to continue Hannah's career as an actress by many organisations, including Disney.

Despite dutifully continuing his role as Hannah's manager, Dad let me choose my destiny. I chose the path of a silent actress for Hannah. It was a matter of time before Dad was inspired by my resilience.

People jokingly compared me to Beethoven, the deaf musician and composer. It was ironic that such a brilliant musician should be deprived of his ability to hear music. Just like the way I used to be able to sing, but now had decided to continue on as an actress. They called me all sorts of things in reverence, including "bravery despite difficulty" and "The pop star who lost her voice but not her hope". The headlines screamed, "Return of the Voiceless Princess!", spreading news about Hannah's renewed career and stardom.

Hannah was no longer worshiped as an idol. She was revered and respected by all who read of her brave comeback. She became an inspirational image. My heart burst with joy every time I thought about my successful alter ego part of my double life.

To cap it all, though, I felt happiest when Mom came to me in a dream, ecstatic with joy and very proud of me.

"_I am so proud of you, baby girl! I knew your old man was wrong to worry so much! You did it! You broke the limits!"_

_Mom gave me a warm hug._

"_I told your daddy you could do anything as long as you wanted to do it badly enough. I was right, wasn't I?"_

"_Yes, mom. Thanks for trusting in me."_

My influence affected even Dad. Daddy returned to his career, having walked away from it four years ago. Apparently the old fans have been waiting for the Dog to howl again for four years, for he became an instant success. I volunteered to play the guitar with him as Miley on stage. On our first ever concert together, as we walked out onto the stage, we felt the entire concert hall quake, fans literally jumping a foot into the air, screaming all sorts of things, including, "WE'RE READY TO HOWL LIKE A DOG!". Daddy looked at me with pride burning in his eyes, and we readied ourselves to make our mark in history together as father and daughter.

"Alright y'all! Are you ready to howl like a dog?"

"HOOOOOOOWWWWWLL!"

"Yeah that's the way I like it! Hit it Miles!"

Placing my hands on my guitar, I began the first note of the song, after which Daddy miraculously got his groove back, singing like he did so long ago.

_Bell bottoms were really cool_

_Cuttin' class and skippin' school_

_I 'member packin' that ol' fishing pole_

_Skinny-dippin' at the swimmin' hole_

_Back lights, red lights and strobe lights too_

_Were all the rage for me and you_

_Only one thing I miss more than that_

_I want my mullet back!_

The crowd's chanting and screaming threatened to drown out the song. When Daddy sang, "I want my mullet back!", the audience followed suit, all the while clapping their hands to the beat of the song.

Daddy really enjoyed himself. He put all his energy into this chorus:

_I want my mullet back_

_I ol' Camero and my eight-track_

_Fuzzy dice hanging loose and proud_

_ZZ Top, they're playin' out loud_

_A simple time that's what I missed_

_Your miniskirt and your sweet kiss_

_Things are changin' man and that's a fact_

_I want my mullet back!_

The crowd went totally wild during his chorus; one could not have heard a bomb go off just metres away from you if there was one. Daddy had a manic gleam return to his sharp eyes, making him look four years younger all of the sudden...

_Back! (Back!)_

_Back! (Back!)_

_Back! (Back!)_

_Yeah!_

I gave out a what-would-have-been a small laughing fit had I still possessed my voice. Daddy slid down on his knees rock-star style, and jiggled away at his electronic guitar fervently. I could see that he had been rehearsing this for four years.

The wail of his guitar solo hypnotised the crowd; they drastically increased the volume, so much that I wondered how a human throat can make so much noise. I never had such a crowd when I was performing as Hannah.

As the song reached its end, I couldn't help joining in even though I had no voice to sing with.

_I want my mullet back!_

_I want my mullet back!_

_I want my mullet back!_

_I want my mullet back!_

_YEAH!_

Daddy went as crazy as the audience as he strummed the last few held notes of the song, and when it finally ended the entire concert hall lifted itself off the ground with applause; the sound was ten times that of an atomic bomb.

Daddy ran towards me, a blazing look on his face, and soon I found myself in his bear hug. Amidst the deafening roars, I heard him hum into my ear during that embrace, "Thank you sweet pea."

Even Dad was inspired to return to his career. The famous Robbie Ray Stewart returned with a bang, even though it put Jackson and I under the spotlight as well. Oh well, you can't have the cake and eat it too. At least it was better than revealing Hannah's secret.

A lot can happen in five days.

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The last bit of the chapter was from my original script. I wrote the front bits from scratch. This chapter is called "Picking up the pieces", and the story is, in a way, different when compared to the botched-up version. I did revive Robbie Ray's career as a star, something which I did last time. In fact I copied the whole lot from the previous chapter 5, with some minor editing. Stay tuned for a something special coming your way!

Oh, and if you hate something about this chapter, please tell me. I'll have it edited right away. Reviews are becoming a thing of value now.

Yes, A LOT can happen in five days.

Terrorking Tragedian


	6. Shattering the Dream

I'm stuck with a load of intangible ideas for my stories, but not enough time to put them in writing. It's actually very hard to think when you've only a half-thought-through plot in your head. Deciding not to give up on this story, I made a little addition to the story to make things a little bit more interesting. Read on.

And sorry about being factually inaccurate at the medical parts. I never had any experience regarding surgery and its after-effects, so I'm going to assume it is this way. I did do some minor research beforehand, however, so I'm not completely clueless. Also, in the headache part, I have indeed experienced such a headache of such a magnitude. It's a severe migraine that comes with a burning fever. Have you ever experienced such an ailment?

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.

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A lot happened in five days.

It's all for the better, right? I mean, Dad regained his career, I regained my Hannah career, and what's more, I got way more publicity than last time. People respected me instead of just idolized me, and I found it difficult to stop myself blushing red as beetroot in front of the crowd now. And that's just my Hannah life. Being a child of Robbie Ray the Howling Dog, I as Miley was cast into the secondary spotlight along with him and Jackson, who seemed to enjoy the publicity very much. (Surprise surprise.)

I needn't sing to stay popular as Hannah. I can act too. Hannah had signed a contract for Zombie High to play a role in the main cast, Zerronda the undead princess. Jake's return to Malibu would be in two months time, after which we can get on with the show.

Actually I was more worried about my obvious failure to keep the handicap of mine a secret. I couldn't fake a sore throat for two months, and so I had to confess. Now the whole school knew. I mean, at least those who knew me knew I was handicapped. But I'm more worried about Jake. What if he came back to see me? What if he discovered the fact that I was mute, and made the connection to Hannah as well? Wouldn't that be awkward? I couldn't be faking a perpetual sore throat!

But apart from that, my life as Miley was not bad at all. Hannah just garnered more attention. Everybody seems to be happy.

Life's happy? You would think so.

Life nearly ended for me.

Here's how.

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It all started with a little fever on Monday. I felt a little ticklish in the throat. Dismissing it as just the beginning of a cold or something, I had a rest and woke up feeling absolutely nothing.

It worsened by Tuesday, however. The fever returned at thirty-nine degrees Celsius, and I began to feel a burning sensation in my throat, almost as if it was inflamed. I tried to use cold-killing pills to cure the fever and the sore throat. Unfortunately, no amount of rest cured the problems.

By Wednesday, the fever reached forty-degrees Celsius, and I began to suffer such severe headaches I spent the entire morning and noon sitting on the couch, resting my head on the cushion as I tried to forget about the pain. The drilling headaches were so agonizing and head-splitting I began to experience hallucinations. My vision was blurry, and I was radiating intense heat all over my body. All the while the anti-migraine medicine proved to be useless, and by the time Jackson returned home from school (Dad had made me stay home for a rest before I went back), I was lying on my back on the couch, my hands massaging my head desperately as I tried to ease the pain. The pounding pain was so intense tears flowed freely down my cheeks, almost as if they had been squeezed out.

My throat also had problems. You'd think that I would never have a sore throat ever again in my life, right? I'm having one right now, the magnitude being ten times worse when compared to a regular sore throat. My throat felt like it was on fire, and when I last looked into a mirror to check on the back of my mouth like doctors always did, I could see that it was red and inflamed. Swallowing anything, even water, was enough to bring me to tears. The sharp pain could be likened to a sharp knife stuck in the middle of the neck.

"Miley! Are you alright?" Jackson asked hastily upon noticing me on the couch, concerned about his sister's health.

If I weren't in so much pain, I would have given him a nasty look that said, "You think?!". Instead I ignored him completely, hardly even hearing him; there was a little ringing sound harbored around my ears all the time.

"Dad! Dad! Something's up with Miley!"

"What'up with her?"

"She's burning up! And I think something's wrong with her head and all..."

Vaguely, I felt a hand press my head.

"Yow! Dang'flammit! I could fry an egg on this forehead over here! Hey, Jackson, could you get a thermometer?"

Dad helped me sit up on the couch. My mind was fuzzy and confused; the room constantly bounced around my eyes, and above all, the headache was killing me.

You know what the worst part is? I can't tell them what's wrong with me! Because I can't talk! How ever will Daddy discover what's going on?

I felt the thermometer enter my mouth just after Daddy said, "Don't move, now."

I think I may have fallen asleep at some point then, or it could have been that I passed out, because when I regained consciousness, I heard hurried voices speaking in odd tongues. How could I have fallen asleep? This pain would guarantee I had NO sleep at all, in fact.

"Sweet niblets! Fourty-two degrees! Jackson, call the hospital!"

"Right on it Dad!"

"Mile! Miley! How're you feelin', bud?"

I hadn't the strength to write to him anyway...

"Mile! Stay with us!"

I head rolled to the side of my neck, and I felt my heavy sack of a body collapse into the couch, completely exhausted. Unfortunately, I had my consciousness with me the whole time.

"Jackson, what's taking so long?"

Soon I felt myself being carried a distance in someone's arms.

"No problem, Robbie Ray. You let Roxy handle this, and I'll make sure she gets to the hospital faster than you can say "snap"!"

"Just hurry it, Roxy! You drive! C'mon, Jackson!"

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I so desperately wanted to tell someone about the pain! It's killing me! HELP!

Perhaps it was the desperation I felt that gave me the strength to whisper, "_Daddy_..."

I was lying horizontally at the back of Daddy's car, the driver being Roxy. My head rested in his lap; I could feel my tears drenching his pair of jeans.

Daddy might have noticed it, or heard the whisper, for he suddenly bent down to me and asked tenderly, "What is it, bud?"

"_Head hurts...bad."_

"Hang in there, bud! We're going to the hospital!"

"_I feel like I'm dying..."_

The headache was a pulsating pain, increasing in intensity every time my heart pumped. I couldn't take it anymore.

Dad seemed to be constantly trying to comfort me; however, I rarely heard what he said.

"Five minutes, Mile...five minutes."

"Two minutes, hang on..."

"We're here! There's the hospital!"

I felt myself be lifted up into arms and carried into wherever he went to. I was too woozy to think...

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Robbie Ray's POV:

Miley looked like she could die any moment now. She was flushing deeply, due to the fever. Her whole body felt like a heat generator on full boil. Her eyes were unfocused and misty, always having a stream of tears descending from them, and the rest of her body was limp and boneless. She looked in the right state, to be frank.

The sight of such suffering was enough to bring tears to my eyes too. What happened to Miley that made her suffer like this?

I would find out in a matter of minutes, I told myself. The hospital people had prepared for our arrival, Jackson having called them up previously. Miley was handed to the hospital staff, whom promptly put her down on a wheel-bed and carted her off into a room.

All we could do was wait outside. Jackson called Lilly and Oliver up to inform them about Miley, Roxy started pacing up and down, and I planted myself on one of the benches, trying to remember how did Miley look like for the past few days when the symptoms developed.

The fever started yesterday, so it seemed. She began to feel a sore throat, and a raging fever at thirty-nine degrees kept her from school. What happened to her that made her so ill?

We found out the truth when the Dr Meyer emerged from the room.

"You've got a severe case on this one. Actually it's our fault. Miley wasn't suffering from any old cold. We found out that..."

His voice trailed away hopelessly, almost shamefully. He looked away, ashamed about something. I didn't want it be left hanging though. Quickly, I yelled at him, "Well? What happened to Miley?"

"Infection. Post-surgical infection. It's our fault she got into this mess."

Surgical infection? No wonder she had the sore throat!

"I hope it's not dangerous?" I asked hopefully.

Doc didn't agree so. 'I'm afraid the bacteria is widespread in her bloodstream. We're gonna have to fight a hard battle to cure her, hopefully overnight. If we win, she'll live and we can discharge her in a few days. If we fail, and we probably might, she will die tomorrow."

We were stunned. Appalled. Speechless.

Miley now hung on the delicate balance of life and death.

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"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'LL DIE?!"

Lilly was horrified at the sound of the news. Her best friend was closer to death than they had imagined. While they were at it, they never expected something like this to happen in the first place.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE'S GONNA DIE?! SHE CAN'T DIE! IT'S JUST A FEVER!"

"Calm down, Lilly! We must pray and hope for the best!" I frantically tried to silence her; the patients from nearby wards were starting to complain.

"NO! IT'S NOT TRUE! SHE WAS ALRIGHT TWO DAYS AGO!" Lilly screamed herself hoarse.

"Lilly, she had an infection after the surgery! There's nothing we can do!"

"AND WHY DID THAT HAPPEN? WHAT ARE THE ODDS THAT - "

"IT'S NOT OUR FAULT! DANG'NAMMIT!" I bellowed over her. Lilly fell silent and sat down on the bench, staring at the floor. One would be able to tell the obvious look of shock on her face.

Perhaps I shouldn't have yelled at her, for she began to tear up. Oh sweet niblets! Why is everything happening to me? This is AWKWARD!

Trying to use a tender apologetic voice, I put an arm around her shoulders and softened up, "Oh, Lilly, don't cry. Nobody's sure if Miley will be fine but we must hope she comes out safe. Things can change."

Jackson and Oliver, both standing on either sides of the door, looked on with similar feelings of awkwardness. Oliver looked just as aghast as Lilly did, but instead of bursting, he fell into a brooding silence.

"Group hug!" I declared. Lilly stood up, Oliver and Jackson came over. The three kids gathered themselves in my open arms. I turned us around to face the window. Tilting my head a little towards Heaven, I began to recite a prayer to the Lord, my eyes closed as I tried to make a connection with the Holy Father.

_"Father who art in Heaven, for the sake of the world, and for those who deem it worthy to call themselves loved ones, come us to ask mercy from thy glory. May the Lord spare the life of the innocent soul behind the doors, and provide salvation for us all. For the devil now threatens the one we love dearly, and even if be it Your will, we find it difficult to let her go so easily like this. Please spare us some mercy, O Lord. Let not the evil Satan defeat us when news come, be it good or bad. Help Miley, O Lord, and with all of thy grace, help thy children, us all, through these troubled times. In the name of Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen."_

"Amen." The kids said after me.

We waited till night. While sitting there staring at the door, occasionally a bunch of nurses will enter and exit the room with medical supplies. Antibiotics, I shouldn't wonder. Around seven O'clock, Doc emerged from the room to report on their progress.

"We're losing her. She's flat-lined a few times, and all the antibiotics fail to work. We performed another surgery to remove the gangrenous tissue around the throat, but the blood seemed to have been poisoned. There is very little hope now."

Dr Meyer's voice was heavy and low, apparently hesitant to disclose the grim news. Nevertheless, all of us knew in a few hours, Miley would be gone forever.

It would seem that the first operation on her throat seemed to have done more damage than good.

"So, you guys got any plans?" Dr Meyer asked tentatively. His words suggested it was time to go home and leave it to the doctors, but we all knew what it meant; what be our plans after Miley's death?

I daren't think about it yet, remembering the prayer I recited a while ago.

But Dr Meyer was right. It was getting late, and Lilly and Oliver probably had to go home, not having obtained permission from their parents to stay and wait.

"We'll be going home, then, I guess." Oliver muttered flatly.

"You kids go. I'll just be waiting here all night." I was determined to find out till the end what will happen to Miley.

To my surprise, so was Jackson. "Lilly and Oliver will go. I'm staying here too, Dad."

I opened my mouth to argue, but faltered when I saw the blazing look on his determined face.

"But you have school tomorrow." I managed to blurt out.

"I will definitely have school tomorrow, but I may never know if I still have a little sister next morning. I'm going to sit here and wait it out." With that, he ingrained his bottom on the bench, arms crossed.

"Good man Jackson." I patted him on the shoulder. Turning to Lilly and Oliver, I added, "But as for you two, I won't dream of chasing you away from here, but I won't let you stay either without your parent's consent. I have no right to ask you to stay."

"My dad is out of town. He's an accountant, and he told me he'd gone out for five days to some conference. Mom will never mind me staying here either." Lilly summarised her situation for us. Nevertheless, she gave her mother a call and informed her about what was happening. In the end, however, her mother had insisted that school was more important, and that Miley would probably be alright; it was just the doctors exaggeration everything again. Lilly had a shouting match with her mother via the phone which lasted ten minutes before giving in.

"See y'all tomorrow, then." She groaned grudgingly and turned to leave, on a verge of tears.

Oliver departed after her, saying his mother would probably say the same things Lilly's mother did. Don't parents at all understand anything a teenager says? No wonder Miley's always complaining about how parents never listen and understand their kids; a generation gap.

Well, I'll be staying right here with Jackson, till news come.

Whispering that same prayer again and again, I watched the hours fly by. Every now and then nurses would rush in with supplies and rush out for more. The ominousness grew as the sky became darker.

During this time I reminisced on the times when Miley was the jumping bouncing one in the family. All the good and bad times we had flashed before my eyes like a slide show. How unfortunate of us to never be able to experience those again...

_"Daddy, look! It's a field hamster!"_

_We were visiting a field of sunflowers on the farmland belonging to Earl, whom Miley and I now called "Uncle Earl". The tall masses of sunflowers glowing like gold in the joyful warm rays of the sun were a sight Miley had never seen. Naturally, upon laying eyes on the beautiful scenery, she was ecstatic._

_The breeze was gentle and cooling. The sun was warm, but not boiling hot as it usually was around noon. Miley jumped into the massive sunflower patch and began to run around chasing butterflies and bees, digging through the large thick but flexible sunflower stalks to look for other wildlife, and occasionally stumbling over something before jumping right up and scooting around again. It was a true joy to watch her play; the positive energy radiated from her whenever she's happy, and when she is the joyfulness was infectious. Soon everybody in the area would be smiling and laughing with her, or at her cute little antics. Everyone except Luanne of course. Otherwise, everyone loved Miley. Her constant undying smile on her face was the reason we rechristened her "Miley" in the first place, for "Smiley" did not sound much like a name. "Miley" was perfect for an innocent soul like her._

_On my face, I wore a sunny smile as I called out at her, "Hey bud! Don't pick any of the flowers! Just play in them, it'll be fine!"_

_"LOOK DADDY! A field hamster! It's so cute and it wants to be my friend!" With that, she charged right back at me._

_The field hamster has been infected with the "smiley Miley" virus, which means it must have fallen in love with Miley's positive energy._

_"It's so cute Dad! Can I keep it? Pretty pretty pretty please?" Her innocent imploring shining grey eyes bore right into mine._

_How could I resist? She was just so cute! With a laugh, I replied, "Alright, Mile. You can keep him. Let's go down to the pet store to get the hamster supplies then, how'about?"_

_"YAY! THANKS DADDY!" She jumped up high and tackled me around the waist, her brown straight hair being blown gently by the cool wind. Miley closed her eyes as she stretched her arms out to their full extend, trying to feel the wind around her body as much as possible. The hamster was standing on her shoulder._

_I followed her actions as well, embracing the beautiful smells of sunflower field, the cool winds, and the warm but gentle rays of sunlight. One would think that they were in an ethereal paradise, almost as if it were Heaven._

_"Embrace the wind, darlin'. Let the atmosphere take your breath away." I advised her as we both stared into the beautiful distances of Tennessee's country zones. Truth be told, such a sight is rare in the world of today._

_Miley smiled further, and began to take deep breaths, as if trying to implant this wonderful moment in her memory._

_An afternoon of paradise._

The clock struck twelve. Jackson fell asleep against the wall, standing firmly on his feet. I never had the chance to fathom just how much Jackson loved Miley. Usually they would be seen trying to get at each other's throats.

It was here that I realised just how fragile and short life can be. One day you're fine, and the next, you're dying.

Is this to be Miley's destiny? Hannah's destiny? To die here behind the doors?

Around one O'clock in the morning, Doc reappeared from the room. Jackson awoke with a jerk and stared at him.

"It's hopeless. We're losing her fast." Doc seemed to have given up on Miley.

I hung my head low in defeat. The Lord had to take Miley from us after all.

"Aye, so this is how it is to end." I lamented morosely.

"Do you want to come in and see her before it's all over?" Doc suggested half-heartedly.

Jackson and I marched in after Doc into the operating room. The room had a lingering smell of herbs and medicine. Every doctor in the room was dressed in the doctor's gown, each of them looking exhausted and unmotivated. In the middle of the room, on the operating table, was Miley. She was lying on her back unconscious, breathing through an oxygen mask, with dozens of tubes and needles sticking into her body, arms, practically everywhere. The heart monitor emitted a sound that indicated slow heartbeat, almost as if the pacemaker was giving up.

I trudged beside her with Jackson, watching the dying angel's chest rise and fall slowly as she inhaled her could-be-final shallow breaths.

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It's up to YOU to guess what happens after this! Haha, how's THAT for a plot twist? I must say, even though it took me a long enough time to churn this up, it was essentially enough to impress me. I will definitely get on with chapter 7 pronto to relieve the cliffhanger in this chapter. Chapter 7 will be directly linked to this, and the only reason I had cut this part of the story into two is for dramatic effect. And then, of course, there are only 24 hours a day. Please hold out for a few days at most. In the meantime, feel free to drop a comment or two. Please have the courtesy to state **which is your favourite part in this chapter.** I don't know about you, but my favourite part is the part when Robbie was thinking about the time he and Miley had together in the sunflower field. You can really feel the happiness.

Thank you.

Terrorking Tragedian


	7. One More Try

I'll be making an extra-special attempt to improve EVERY story of mine. Sorry for the long wait! I was away for the last four days. Now, to relieve the cliffhanger of chapter 6!

Please do review at the end and kindly tell me what is your favourite part from the last two chapters. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.

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Her breath was stable, but shallow. Every time she breathed, her chest would rise half an inch before falling into depression. Her eyes were closed; she was asleep, and yet, somehow, she seemed to be bearing a frown on her face, as if she was in pain. With needles, tubes and stuff sticking into her body, and an oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose, Miley looked like something close to a dead person.

"She's in a coma, we reckon." Doc said, standing behind Robbie and Jackson as they gazed upon their dying angel. He hesitated before adding, "We couldn't save her. She'll be gone by morning."

Robbie dropped to his knees beside Miley on the table, Jackson following suit, gripping the edge of the table.

"Oh, Miley..." Robbie began tearfully.

"Dad..." Jackson pointed at the heart monitor. The signals showed fitful unstable fading heartbeats, almost as if her pacemaker was giving up.

"She's flat-lined many times, and each time we had to restart her heart with the defibrillator over there." Doc pointed at the shock machines lying innocently on the table by the side.

Robbie could no longer resist letting his tears flow. His daughter had had so many near-encounters with death, and each time she was pulled out of it in an equally painful way.

"Lord, what has she done to deserve this?"

Stroking her hair gently, Robbie whispered softly into her ear, "Miley? Mile, can you hear me? Miley?"

Miley remained silent and unmoving, save her chest which rose and fell slightly every two seconds.

"She won't answer you Dad." Jackson said bluntly, facing the bitter truth.

Yet somehow, Robbie knew his little girl was listening.

"Don't leave us like this, bud. We couldn't save you. Now only you can save yourself. What do you think will happen if you died? What about Jackson? Lilly? Oliver? Your Daddy?" Tears trickled freely down Robbie's cheeks now as he desperately pleaded for a sign of life.

"Give me a sign, bud. Give me any sign, just to tell me you're alive. Don't let us down like this, bud."

Jackson watched tearfully as his father took one of Miley's hands, a needle still embedded deep into the flesh. Robbie shivered slightly when he felt her icy cold death-pale hand, looking lifeless and woebegone.

"Miley? Give us a sign." Robbie repeated again and again.

Despite the pleading, however, Miley continued to disappoint them. Her face stony, expression unmoving, and impassively sleeping on, she looked as though she was in another plane of existence, and her soul was untouchable. After ten minutes of pleading, Robbie and Jackson learnt that Miley was never coming around, nor was she ever coming back. It was especially hard for Robbie to take the truth. At this, Jackson left the place, not daring to watch his father cry. Mumbling a soft "I'll just be outside, then...", he traipsed out of the operating theater.

Reminding himself so much about what he did four years ago, his wife in place of Miley, Robbie began to make his final confession. It was a good thing all the doctors were out of the room, taking a breather, and that Jackson was also gone. It was a perfect environment for a deep private father-and-daughter moment.

"Miley, I don't know whether you're listening or not, but there will be no other time to say this if not now. I love you, Mile. You were not just a second child of mine when I first laid my eyes on you. From the moment I looked into your eyes, I knew you were a star; a wonder child destined to achieve great things. Talent was in your blood. Look at you! You're Hannah Montana! A teen pop sensation; a true star shining on millions of people! You did us Stewarts proud, bud."

Doc Meyer, the only doctor who remained, hastily wiped a tear from his eye. Robbie took no notice.

"Even as Miley, you were the shining star of our family. All of us knew you as the quintessence of energy and innocence; you were always the Smiley Miley, packed with endless energy, and always bouncing 'round the place. You never dragged your feet; whenever you walked you always had springs attached to the soles of your feet, adding little prances and jumps into you pace. With your beguiling nature and charming sunny smile, you could win over anyone's heart. Everyone remembered you as a lovely adorable hyperactive little girl who never knew evil.

Remember that day in the sunflower field, when you were seven? Remember that beautiful day? I could see the innocence, the positive energy shining from you. Even that hamster, he fell in love with you! Your eyes, they were the most memorable. I remembered when we embraced the cool fragrant wind. An afternoon of paradise."

Miley's face remained motionless. But Robbie could tell that somehow she was smiling.

"Remember the time we celebrated a special Christmas with the entire family, and you held in your hands a little toy guitar? You bounced around the room for an hour, and all of us were laughing as we watched you perform a march-past with Jackson, singing Christmas carols rock-style. You were always full of happiness and perkiness, and with you around nothing could go wrong. Wherever you are there will never be a frown in the area.

Remember the time the four of us went up to the Great Smoky Mountains? That national park was huge, and everywhere we saw clouds, trees and the haze around us. The arduous climb was long, but when we reached the top of the mountain and looked down, what did you feel? The breathtaking sights; all those mountains, the beautiful clouds, the wondrous sky, the cool air. It was lovely, don't you remember?

Remember the time your mom passed away? All of us felt the hurt, but we all could tell you took it the hardest. You were no longer the energetic little girl anymore, and even though you've managed to recover over these years, you were never you ten-year-old self anymore. You've stopped jumping around. I think the shock must have been so big you couldn't describe it. The incident possibly marred you emotionally and psychologically, didn't it? I remembered when we were all trying to help each other get over it. You would lock yourself in your room and cry for hours on end before opening up. We all felt like that, bud. We all wanted to lock ourselves up and cry. But we stayed strong, and over time we pulled ourselves together."

Robbie squeezed Miley's frozen hand harder, as if trying to inject some life essence into her dying spirit.

"I'll always be your best friend, bud. You were not just my daughter; you were the best daughter any parent can hope for. I love you. Stay with us, or go and see your mom, it's entirely your choice. Just remember, we all love you, and always will."

Robbie wiped away his tears and planted a kiss on Miley's forehead. Finally, after a long painful struggle, he felt he was willing to let go of her. Where she chose to go now – Heaven to her mother, or back to the world – was entirely up to her now. No one else save God could help her.

Doc Meyer was deeply touched by the father-and-daughter moment.

"...sob...that was beautiful..."

Robbie gave a start, not knowing Doc was standing by the side. He whipped around in surprise and spluttered, "Doc! But...I thought you were...!!"

"Don't worry, Robbie Ray. This never leaves the room." Doc Meyer crossed his heart with sincerity. Striding towards Miley, he too stared down at her pale face, cold as the surface of the moon, white as a sheet, an oxygen mask placed over her mouth and nose like a muzzle.

"Shame it has to be this way...I mean...I know Miley and you personally...I cannot possibly think of any way to apologise..." he began, not really knowing what to say.

"It's not your fault, Doc. You did your best." Robbie told him with a hard voice.

"No, it very much is! Surgical infection for such an easy operation?! I'd kill myself if it ever happened again! Heck, chances of failure were one in a million!" Doc exclaimed.

"And that 'one in a million' is our family's middle name. There's nothing we can do about it now." Robbie muttered hopelessly. "Our only chance is Miley herself. If she wants to wake up, she will."

"They say we, as doctors, should keep a level of professional detachment. To not be emotionally attached to the patient; to be impassive and stolid. But I know you guys personally, like a family doctor, and...well, it just hurts me to see one of my close patients end up like this..." Doc tore his gaze away from Miley, ashamed of his own failure.

"Ar, oh well, we tried, we failed." Robbie patted the Doctor hard on the back. "Come on, you need to take a break too. There's nothing else for us to do."

_And then, Robbie felt a warm flush in his hand._

It might have been something to do with his own body temperature; he was shivering slightly in the frigid coldness of the air. Or did he just feel the hand move?

He looked down on Miley, and traced his eyes to his hand, still holding on to Miley's hand.

His eyes popped out of their sockets when he noticed what happened.

Miley's body, face and head were motionless, but her hand, with a needle still poking in it, was squeezing Robbie's hand weakly; weakly, but still, it was moving.

A sign of life! Miley was trying to stop her father leaving! It was a sign of consciousness!

Then Robbie heard a voice in his head.

"_I want to wake up, Daddy. Dad, help me! I want to wake up! I'm scared!"_

"Miley!? Is that you?" Robbie asked Miley, thinking he might have gone mad.

"Is who? Is what?" Doc was equally mystified.

"_Help me, Daddy! It's so scary and dark in here! I'm trying my best! Daddy!"_

"No! No, you're alright!" Robbie crouched down and took Miley's moving hand with both of his, despite thinking to himself, "She's not moving! Robbie Ray, what are you doing?"

"_Just one more try, Dad, just one more. I promise I'll wake up."_

"You'll be alright, bud! I promise, you'll be alright!" Robbie tried to reassure his daughter. It looked like an act of a delusional madman, for she was completely unmoving save the hand, still squeezing and now shaking in an effort to maintain its state of motion.

Robbie knew. He knew that Miley was trying to contact him.

"What's happening?!" Doc yelled in his state of confusion.

"She wants one more try! Look, she's moving!" Robbie showed Doc Meyer Miley's hand. Seconds after, the hand collapsed onto the table.

"_One more try, Daddy...one more try..."_

"Miley just spoke to me. One more try, she says. Let's give her another try! Maybe she'll wake up!" Robbie shouted animately at Doc.

"Spoke to you? But she's...never mind. Are you sure you weren't hearing voices?" Doc asked skeptically, hesitant to give another futile attempt to revive Miley.

"I'm positive, Doc! She was trying to speak to me! One more try, just one more try! Get the doctors back in here and let's get the party on again!"

"Right." Doc ran to the wall and yelled into the receiver.

"Doctor Meyer from operating theater 12, requesting supplies for patient Miley Stewart, for details, check in records. Calling all doctors in charge back to their duty!"

In no time at all, the nurses banged the door open, wheeling in the medicine and stuff. The doctors who had previously given up and went to take a rest all flooded back into the room, some with looks of excitement on their faces, others bearing a confused expression.

"To your stations, doctors! We are going to try again! The patient is stirring! There is still hope! I want potentiation of the penicillin!" Doc Meyer yelled out the order to resume their stations. There was a terrific whoop of joy and motivation in the room; the doctors punched the air in half-triumph, glad to know that their efforts were not for nothing after all.

"Robbie Ray, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave." Doc turned to Robbie. Robbie nodded and ran to the door. Seconds before he reached it, though, the door banged open again.

The sunlight was glaring, and for awhile the person revealed to be behind the door was a silhouette. Robbie squinted and stared before he made out who it was.

"ROXY!"

Roxy strode imperiously into the operating theater, Jackson behind her, yelling, "Dad! Roxy came back to help!"

"No infection's gonna kick Roxy out of her job of being a bodyguard! I swore to protect Miley, and I'm not leaving till she's well! No germs are gonna stay for long when Roxy's Funk is in the house!" Roxy marched past the stunned doctors carrying a large pot of her homemade Funk.

"Come on, you worthless lot! What're y'all standing there for? I came as reinforcements, so MOVE, MOVE, MOVE! You're in Roxy's army now!" Roxy bellowed at the doctors.

Robbie was pulled out of the room by Jackson.

"Where did Roxy come from?" Robbie asked Jackson, shutting the door to the operating theater.

"You remember when Lilly and Oliver arrived? And, we talked and waited and all that? Well, Roxy slipped off during then, but we never noticed, not even when we were waiting the night out, and when Lilly and Oliver had to go home. We completely forgot about her. But all the while she was brewing her Funk to help Miley. I don't know what the heck that is but it works on anything. So, here she is! She only reappeared just now when I was waiting outside."

They never noticed Roxy giving us a slip. Apparently, upon hearing the news that Miley was probably a goner, she rushed home to brew her magical potion which she calls the Funk. Robbie had a moment's time to praise Roxy's resourcefulness before turning towards the window and muttering the same prayer to the Lord.

"_Father who art in Heaven, for the sake of the world, and for those who deem it worthy to call themselves loved ones, come us to ask mercy from thy glory. May the Lord spare the life of the innocent soul behind the doors, and provide salvation for us all. For the devil now threatens the one we love dearly, and even if be it Your will, we find it difficult to let her go so easily like this. Please spare us some mercy, O Lord. Let not the evil Satan defeat us when news come, be it good or bad. Help Miley, O Lord, and with all of thy grace, help thy children, us all, through these troubled times. In the name of Jesus Christ, we pray. Amen."_

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It was morning, before school hours began.

Lilly and Oliver arrived in time to witness Robbie and Jackson waiting outside the door once again. Feeling a sense of foreboding, Lilly questioned, "Still waiting for the news?"

To their utter amazement, Robbie jumped up and told them, "You'll never guess what happened." He was unable to control the excitement in his voice.

"What? Mr Stewart, what happened?" Oliver and Lilly were puzzled.

Jackson was told beforehand about what happened during the long period of time. After a long wait well into the night, the doctors reported a failure to save Miley, and they were told that Miley was a goner. Nevertheless, they were allowed one last visit before the white cloth descended. Jackson couldn't bear to watch his father cry, and had left to be on his own. The rest of the tired doctors traipsed out of the room for a breather, all save Doc Meyer. Robbie and Miley shared a deep father-and-daughter moment, during which Miley's hand squeezed her father's. Realising that Miley was trying to communicate with her father and tell the doctors to try again, Robbie and Doc ordered everyone to resume their stations. Just then, Roxy appeared with her Funk and took command of the operating theater.

"You mean she still has a chance?" Lilly yelled, hardly able to contain her excitement.

"You bet'cha!" Robbie shouted happily.

There was much celebrating between the four people waiting outside the theater.

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About an hour passed. Robbie and the eagerly waiting friends crossed their fingers, constantly muttering prayers to Heaven for Miley. Finally, Doc Meyer emerged from the room, sweat-faced but triumphant.

"We've won! We've won! She's saved at last!" was his victorious roar.

"Sweet niblets, Doc! How did you do it?" Robbie patted the exhausted doctor on the back.

"Umpteen doses of penicillin, a potful of Roxy's Funk, and a whole lot of luck!" Doc gasped.

"How did you administer the Funk?" Jackson inquired the doctor.

"Eh, what you do want to know is whether she's fine or not. That Funk was a sort of miracle stuff! Roxy told us to clear off and she used her funk. After a hard battle, we've won! Hahaha!" Doc clapped Robbie on the back in return.

"Yes, but, how did she actually use the funk? Inject it? Pour it? Make Miley eat it?" Jackson went on.

"How is she, Doc? Is she gonna be alright?" Robbie asked.

"She's awake, in fact! She just woke up, completely well! Admittedly, she was still slightly groggy, but she's no longer in a comatose state. You can see her if you want to!"

"Hallelujah!" Lilly, Jackson and Oliver charged into the operating theater, tearing up the floor tiles. Robbie looked at the bright sky and said, "Thank you, Lord. For all You've done. For answering our prayers. Amen to that."

"_Yes indeed. Amen to that."_

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Miley was sitting up on the table, the oxygen mask taken off her face, many of the tubes removed from her body and arms. On her face, a welcoming smile shone, and her arms were outstretched as Lilly, Oliver and Jackson ran up to her.

"MILEY!"

Lilly was the first to get there, and immediately she threw her arms around Miley, bursting into tears on her shoulders.

"Oh Miley! You had us so worried last night! The doctors said you were a goner!"

Miley patted her back reassuringly, as if to say, "I'm not going anywhere, Lilly. I'm fine."

"I couldn't sleep last night. All I did was think about you. How could I live without my best friend? My sister? Oh, Miley..." Lilly's tears choked up her words.

After a tight and long embrace, Lilly broke away, hastily wiping her eyes dry. Oliver came up and clapped Miley hard on the back like as if she had just won a marathon.

"Well done, girl! I mean, you could have died, and you nearly did so many times. But you decided to stick to living and never gave up. You know, dying is a lot easier, actually. We're proud of you." Even Miley thought it sounded weird. _I went through near-death and you're congratulating me for making it?_

Miley gave him a "thanks" look and beckoned Jackson to come closer. Jackson pulled his sister into another deep warm embrace. Never in history had brother and sister felt so close before.

"We were so close to losing you, you know that? The doctors told us they failed to save you and that you were going to die. If it wasn't for Roxy, you'd probably be up there with Mom now."

"That's right, Jackson. No need to thank Roxy. Roxy's just doing her job, 'cause that's what family do for each other." Roxy waddled over contentedly. "Just a potful of Funk, and that did the job! Those doctors were useless." she added casually. "You're doin' good, Miley."

"I couldn't think of anything but you for the whole of last night. I never had the time to say it, Miles, but, even though you're not dying, I'm not gonna take it for granted and say it. I love you, Miles. You're my little sister, and we'll always be a team." Jackson hugged his sister closer, letting first tears fall on her back. Miley pulled away from her brother, blushed slightly and looked at Jackson incredulously, as if Jackson was giving extravagant praise.

"He should know, Mile. He sat out there waiting for you all night long."

Robbie appeared behind the Jackson, looking at Miley happily. "Welcome back, bud."

Miley smiled even wider and beckoned for her father to come closer. Robbie stretched out his arms and pulled his daughter into them, never willing to let her go so far away from him again. Miley snuggled deeply into his warm loving arms, and Robbie tightened his grip around her, trying to confirm to himself that Miley was well and alive.

"I won't let you get so far away from us all again. Ever. I swear. Till the day I die, I'll be your defender. You're my little girl."

Miley buried her head even deeper into his chest in response, tears cascading like a waterfall down her grey eyes. Beside them, Lilly went "Aww!" and put her head on Oliver's shoulder.

"Aren't they just so sweet?"

Robbie never heard her, though. Still bound to her frail body by his arms, he said, "You never gave up hope after all. I felt you, when you squeezed my hand. From then, I heard you. One more try. What was it that scared you? Monsters? The dark? A feeling of hopelessness?"

Miley shook her head. Robbie went on, "Well, whatever it is, you'll always have me to protect you. I'm your Dad. I don't know whether you heard or not, but I tried to talk to you while you were asleep. The doctors say you were in a coma. And yet, somehow, I thought you were awake. When you squeezed my hand, I knew you were."

Then, with voice heaving with emotion, he whispered into her ear, "I love you, bud. I hope you know it too."

Miley was close enough to his ear to whisper, _"I know, Dad. I heard you then."_

Robbie's heart stopped pumping for a few seconds. _You don't mean...she heard me when she was supposed to be a coma?_

"You heard me?"

"_Every word, Dad."_

Then, for another eternity, Robbie and Miley hugged each other, engaging in the deepest of father-and-daughter moments.

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Phew, I finally got that out of my head. No need to thank me for posting, just PLEASE tell me what is your favourite part in the last two chapters, including this one. You feedback will be much appreciated.

And FYI, what I meant by "Every word, Dad" at the end was: Miley heard every word Robbie said when everyone was out of the operating theater, all save Doc Meyer. Remember? That part about the sunflower field, and the mountains, and Christmas and all that? That was the father-and-daughter moment I want to emphasise on. That's when Miley was actually conscious all the time, listening intently to her father.

And, to escape accusations, NO ROMANCE BETWEEN LILLY AND OLIVER INTENDED!!! Just keep that in mind.

And now, time to build on my other stories...

Terrorking Tragedian


	8. Aftermath of the Surgery

Er-hem. I expect many people were waiting for this? Or they've totally forgotten? Anyway, I'm aiming to complete two more challenges for Miley to contend with before the conclusion. And starting here, is some trouble for everyone! Welcome to Chapter 8!

It begins with the aftermath of the surgery in chapters 6 and 7, before proceeding to introduce a new plot element later on.

And about that uncanny resemblance to Disney's Little Mermaid, it introduces itself here, to be elaborated in the future...

Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.

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About a week has passed since the recent operation. The scar will remain for some time, but recovery was well under way. Miley was discharged on Sunday, five days after the life-saving surgery. It was a joyous celebration when she finally returned home; Jackson and Robbie Ray threw a party for Miley to congratulate her for pulling through, inviting all of Miley's classmates and other people who felt like joining. Robbie Ray drove Miley home from the hospital, Jackson having mysteriously vanished. When they finally reached their home, Robbie Ray opened the door and offered Miley to enter first.

Miley stepped in. It was all quiet. The house was pitch dark. Turning on the lights, Miley realised that there was no one there.

Robbie Ray returned her questioning look with, "Oh no, there's nothing here. Follow me." Winking at her vaguely, he marched off to the deck. Miley ran after him, curiosity piqued.

He led her to the sunny beach. And there was a huge crowd of people dressed in all types of colourful clothes, waiting around Rico's kiosk.

"Here you go, Honey." Robbie Ray said with a sunny air, pushing her in front of the crowd. Miley stared at the hundred pairs of eyes for a moment, before a huge explosion knocked her right off her feet.

"SURPRISE!"

Everyone was there, waiting for their star of the surprise party. Miley spotted many of her classmates amongst the applauding crowd; Sarah waved a banner which looked like it was woven out of spare cloth and dead leaves that said "WELCOME HOME MILEY!". Jackson's friends were applauding seated around the kiosk; amongst them were Thor, Cooper and Max. Rico was also cheering, ecstatic that she returned fine. Even Amber and Ashley were there, though they were not applauding. And standing beside the table with a giant cake were Lilly, Oliver, and Jackson. Giving her a grand standing ovation, they together raised another banner that said "OUR GUEST OF HONOUR!"

Miley's eyes stung with tears of thankfulness and gratitude. She felt like screaming with excitement. She charged at the table and in a flash, she caught Lilly, Oliver and Jackson in her arms.

"MILEY!" Jackson shouted.

Miley burst into tears on their shoulders. Behind her were intensifying whoops and cheers, even whistles.

"ALRIGHT! Let's get this party started, folks!" Robbie Ray roared into the crowd, and was met by another explosion of joy.

Somebody turned on a radio and amplified it to a speaker; a very luau-style music began playing into the air. Everyone joined in the feast at the buffet table before going off to join a conga line started by Jackson and Thor. Miley was treated like a queen; she was given the highest honour in the party, and as she felt everyone's hands hit her back in congratulations, she felt that there would be no other girl in the world who would be happier than her. For one thing, the party itself was magnificent. The food was a feast for the senses; beautifully prepared, they fed the eyes and nose as well as the taste buds.

A small mountain of gifts was brought in on a cart pushed in by Roxy. Miley stared wide-eyed in awe at the sight.

"It's all yours Miley! They were meant to be get-well-soon gifts, but we delivered them too late." Roxy called out. Miley opened half the gifts in front of everybody, unable to finish them all at once. Among the gifts were: a pair of diamond earrings resembling wind chimes from her father; a book about environmental issues and protection from Sarah; a black stylish purse; a seventeenth-century-style cutlass from Roxy complete with a training manual; a cashmere sweater from Oliver (who seemed to be ignorant about shopping choice); a clock; a water bottle; and even a hairy tarantula named Tim hidden in one of the boxes from Rico. (Unable to scream, she gasped in horror instead, withdrawing her hand at light speed. Somewhere behind her, Rico began cackling madly.)

However, the party was not all that enjoyable for Miley. She was still nervous about taking solid food; she could drink, but swallowing would still be moderately painful and unpleasant. Therefore, all she ate was the cake and some fruits, watching others feast on the other beautifully cooked dishes on the buffet table.

Jackson challenged various people to a dance-off, exhibiting his prodigious skill at the traditional Scottish egg dance once more. Rico stomped him out of the competition with his blindingly fast break dancing moves.

The party ended three hours later, when Miley fell asleep, exhausted from all the excitement, resting her head on the counter of Rico's kiosk. Robbie Ray cleared everyone out while some volunteers stayed behind to clean up the after-party mess. Rico re-opened his kiosk to business at the beach, ketchup and mustard splattering his clothes; they marked where Miley hit him with food and other stuff as she vented her silent anger on him earlier.

"Hey tuts, I'm re-opening here. This is not a nap shack, Ms Ketchup-Pistol!" Rico said bitingly, waking her up with a shove. Miley raised her head and glared at him before walking off to help with the clean-up job. "I'm going to need to wash this with a whole box of detergent." he added more to himself than to her, looking down on his shirt, now resembling a surreal painting by some famous painter, with splats of red and yellow resembling paint spots.

Miley picked up a plate and immediately staggered under its weight, her arms weakened by lack of energy. Her father appeared suddenly and took the tray from her hands.

"Oh no, Honey. You don't need to help here. Why don't you go back to the house now and take a rest; I saw you looking quite tired just now." Robbie Ray suggested, moving the aluminum dishes provided by the catering service as while Roxy single-handedly moved the long table out the way and began dragging it towards the Stewart's house.

"Yeah he's probably right. Don't over-exert yourself, Miley; you're still recovering." Oliver came over and pat her friendlily on the shoulder.

Refusing to argue any more, and feeling too tired to do so anyway, she walked back up to their beach house. It was when she reached the deck did her strength drain out of her body all of the sudden. Unable to stagger another nine steps, she collapsed onto the warm wooden, imagining a tanning chair in front of her. She fell heavily on the floor and immediately fell into the land of dreamless oblivion.

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Robbie Ray found Miley curled up on the floor, motionless, breathing slowly and deeply, about ten minutes later. His heart had stopped beating for seven seconds.

"MILE! WHAT THE SAM-HECK HAPPENED?" He yelled in shock.

BANG.

Roxy, Lilly, Oliver and Jackson rushed up to the deck in a frantic hurry.

"What happened?!" Lilly exclaimed in horror. Miley was cradled in Robbie Ray's lap, still unconscious, lying limp in his hands. Oliver yelped softly, and Jackson muttered under his breath, "Please, don't let it be happening all over again..."

"She's just asleep. Shh! You'll wake her up!" Roxy shouted but in a hushed voice. Taking Miley into her arms, she entered the house and placed Miley down on the couch gently. Robbie Ray and Jackson were speechless in shock and horror respectively.

"How do you know?" Oliver asked with concern in his voice.

"Roxy sees everything. Roxy knows everything too." Roxy replied ambiguously, covering Miley with a thin blanket. Right on cue, Miley began to snore gently (and elegantly of course). Robbie Ray sighed and fainted in relief, landing on the ground with a hard dull thump.

"Oh sweet niblets! Another man down!" Roxy exclaimed in exasperation, hoisting the man onto her steel-strong shoulders and carrying him up to his room.

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The following week of recovery passed somewhat uneventfully. Miley was still hesitant about taking solid food, and tried to avoid eating whenever she could. She only dared to eat soft foods like porridges, noodles, some fruits, and soups, but even so she did not eat much, fearing the pain in her still-recovering throat. Soon she began to weaken physically, nearly fainting on many occasions, and always lacking of energy.

"Now, Honey, I know it hurts, but if you don't eat anything, you'll never recover! Look at you! You're growing weaker and weaker! Are you sure you're alright, bud?" Robbie Ray said while making a breakfast cheese omelet on Thursday morning, watching Miley stagger towards him, pale-faced and visibly sagging.

Miley shook her head and poured herself a cup of milk.

Lilly and Oliver also began expressing their concerns regarding Miley's health.

"Miley! You've got to eat something! You've been starving yourself for four days straight just because you're afraid of the pain in your throat! You must eat in order to recover!" Lilly pleaded on Thursday afternoon, after school.

"If you keep this up, you might even develop an eating disorder! And that will really be a problem; don't you know eating disorders can kill?" Oliver advised.

Miley glared at him, feeling as if Oliver had just insulted her personal honour. She scribbled something on her whiteboard furiously and held it before his face. It read, in bold capital fonts, "I WILL NEVER STOOP THAT LOW! HOW DARE YOU SUGGEST THAT!"

On Friday morning, she fell ill, struck by the common cold. Feeling at her worst, she finally decided to take a bite out of a ham-cheese-egg sandwich prepared by her father, to relieve herself of such tormenting agony – aching hunger and sickness together.

It hurt no longer, she realised with dawning happiness. The pain had diminished greatly, the wound having recovered. Bravely, she stuffed the rest of the sandwich into her mouth, savoring the taste of first solid food in the week; the rough texture of wholemeal bread, the delicious scrambled eggs, complimented by the cheese and ham. It was like eating a rainbow. Miley completely forgot that she was eating a plain sandwich; to her, nothing could taste better than this.

"Wow, look at you! I hadn't seen you smile this widely since that party on Sunday." Robbie Ray remarked over his pancakes, during breakfast.

Miley nodded vigorously, ravenous. For breakfast, she inhaled an omelet, two sandwiches, four pancakes, and two glasses of milk to wash it all down. Feeling content and full for the first time in a week, Miley could not help but smile for the next few hours, revitalised. The cold miraculously vanished without a trace by afternoon.

"Look here, son! Your sister's finally gotten her appetite back!"

"Hey Miles! Bet you can't eat 20 hot dogs in two minutes! My personal record!"

"Actually, son, she ate 25 in two minutes. This morning."

"WHAT?!"

"...giggle..."

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Soon Miley found herself returning to school on Monday, fully refreshed and recovered. With her usual skip in her step, it would seem to a stranger that she had never gone through the week-long ordeal. She was shining with happiness, while everyone suffered the Monday Blues. She carried herself loftily, the hem of her flouncy little sleeveless dress dancing around her legs as she skipped down the hallways.

"Boy, you look excited about something." Lilly remarked as Miley approached her in the hallways. Miley shook her head, meaning to say that she was just happy to get her life moving on.

"Well, this ought to be good. I hear from everyone that Jake Ryan has finished shooting his movie in Romania and will be coming back in two weeks' time!" Lilly said in a controlled voice. Miley's jaw dropped in horror.

"I know. The tabloid magazines have got an article over here." Lilly fished out a magazine from her bag and showed it to Miley. "They say that Jake finished shooting the movie quicker than expected and will be coming back to Malibu from Romania for its premiere." she added.

Miley stared at the article in horror. _Jake, coming back? Sooner than we've expected! Now I will have to steel myself to face him. But is he ready to hear about my handicap yet? How will he take it? Will he, perhaps, make that vital link between Hannah and me, both being mute? Or will he accept it as a coincidence? And what about him and me? He told me himself, unwittingly, that he still misses me very much, even trying to call me! Thank goodness Lilly was there to save me! But I can't keep this up! If he meets me in person, he's bound to find out himself!_

Miley's hand unconsciously reached the scar on her neck. Lilly snapped her fingers an inch away from Miley's face, bringing her back from her soliloquy.

"Well? You've got to tell him in the end." Lilly said, mirroring Miley's thoughts exactly.

"..."

"Hey, no worries, Miley. I'll just answer your calls from now on."

Miley explained to Lilly her thoughts by writing a long and nervous note, not wanting to write and erase on her whiteboard every ten seconds.

"Wow, you're really in a crisis, aren't you?" Lilly chortled.

Thoughts about the complexity of the situation she found myself to be in and Jake returning plagued her mind all day. From the moment the first bell rang, she had lost all all the skip and bounce in her step.

_How will he take it? How will I take it? It's so complicated! What will happen from here?_

"Stewart! Will you please stop zoning out and pay attention?" Ms Kunkle snapped halfway through biology.

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I wanted to continue here, but due to a few reasons, I've decided to place the full stop here. Sorry if it's a wee bit short. The reasons are:

1. I have neither strength nor time to go on from here for now.

2. The following sentence "Two weeks flew by within a blink of an eye" shall be reserved for the next chapter, and that being the case, there is nothing left for me to write from hereon.

3. I wanted to leave a cliffhanger – not an extreme one, but a cliffhanger nevertheless.

No romance between Oliver and Miley intended. This is for those who speculate too much. Merci Beaucoup.

Terrorking Tragedian


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